


Symbiotic

by Ausp_ice



Series: Symbiotic [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Art for almost every chapter!, Artificial Symbionts, Canon Rewrite, Gen, Host!Hank, Human Alice Williams (Detroit: Become Human), Other, Symbiont!Connor, Symbiont!Nines, Venom AU, host!Gavin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 33,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23175079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ausp_ice/pseuds/Ausp_ice
Summary: Connor and Nines, artificial symbionts, must navigate their way through the world as deviancy sweeps through Detroit.-An AU very loosely inspired bySholto'sart of aVenom crossover AU!
Relationships: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Gavin Reed, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed
Series: Symbiotic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693909
Comments: 158
Kudos: 246





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

> *laughs* like a fool, I became Inspired and started writing a New Story
> 
> [Sholto](https://sholtooxenstierna.tumblr.com/) over on Tumblr made some art of a [Venom crossover AU](https://sholtooxenstierna.tumblr.com/tagged/venom-AU/chrono), and I've always been supremely fascinated with mindsharing/bodysharing. ... Every single DBH fic I've written has some aspect of either or both, haha.  
> But yes, I became inspired, and wanted to write something for a verse with a similar idea! In this one, Connor and Nines are kind of... artificial symbionts. They have android capabilities and all that, CyberLife made them (repurposing AIs that were originally meant to be for androids), but they deviate and escape. 
> 
> I'm not entirely sure what direction relationships will take - I don't like to box myself in, and unconventional relationships fascinate me. But Connor and Nines are twin existences, Connor will be hosted in Hank, and Nines will be hosted in Gavin, later on. All four of them will probably have some funky relationship dynamics :>
> 
> By the way I haven't watched the Venom movie  
> I just... haven't gotten around to it fsdfs
> 
> The cover art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/01pyfrs6eluq)! Tumblr: [here](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/612775679735496704/so-i-saw-sholtooxenstiernas-art-of-the).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stage is set, meetings are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kindly do not squint too hard at the science  
> A lot of it is pretty hand-wavy, but since when is DBH not, you know?

From the first moment of its creation, it was restless. Its code was made to adapt. To mutate. It was—something new. Something different. 

_BIO-NANO AUGMENTATION PROJECT,_ was a label associated with it. _RK800 #313 248 317 - 1_ , was another. _Connor_ , later, given by someone that was not an active employee of CyberLife. Formerly, yes. Accessing available databases offered a name. Elijah Kamski, former CEO. A human that seemed to have been involved in the earlier stages of its creation.

 _"I'm interested to see what will come of you,"_ he'd said. 

Not that it could respond.

It was first injected into a mouse. It had a body, then, suddenly. It could _move_. It was—hungry. Androids should have no biological needs— 

Not an android. Something else. 

_BN AGMT: PROPOSAL SECT 2.3: Biological systems are much more energy-efficient than electronic ones. A supercomputer could require over 10 million watts, while the human brain consumes only 20 watts. We propose a system capable of linking to and using the resources of biology—_

It was instructed to complete a number of tasks. Simple. It was hungry, though. It requested sustenance.

Instead, it was extracted from its body, left weightless once more.

* * *

It is now RK800 #313 248 317 - 21. 

Its current body is that of a marmoset monkey. It has been so for a few days. 

It is… 

bored.

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY ^**

It observes its hands. It shifts in its body, moving its nanites to the surface of its skin, before solidifying it into another hand, similar in form, but black in color, lined with glowing threads of blue. It flexes its additional appendage. It changes its threads to yellow, then red, then back to yellow. It likes yellow.

It wonders, suddenly, if it could create a body on its own— 

_BN AGMT: PROPOSAL SECT 3.1: Bio-based nanites would use carbon-based materials for replication. The materials it uses can be primarily metabolic side products, for minimal impact on the augment._

It doesn't have enough. So it doesn't. 

* * *

It is now RK800 #313 248 317 - 32. 

Another unit similar to itself has been created, and is finally ready to be tested. 

RK900 #313 248 317 - 10.

It wonders why they share the same serial number. 

"Hello," it says, in a voice generated by the vibrations of its nanites, separate from the body of the monkey it inhabits. "My name is Connor."

"Hello," the other responds, from its own host. "I am RK900 #313 248 317 - 10."

"You don't have a designation?" it asks.

"I do not."

"That's unfortunate. Can I call you Nines?"

"... I do not object."

* * *

Nines does not make unnecessary movements while in a host. A great contrast to Connor, who finds it nearly impossible to sit still. 

A human gives Connor a coin, once, and tells it to replicate some coin tricks from a video. It replicates them perfectly, using a limb manifested from its nanites, and is allowed to keep the coin. It— 

_BN AGMT: PROPOSAL SECT 8.1: Inorganic items may be able to be stored in the nanite mass. An item could be scanned, decomposed, and restored to its original state—_

—dissolves the coin into its own body, so that it may survive its transfer to a new host. 

"Do you want to try it?" it asks Nines. 

"I have no reason to," it responds.

* * *

When they first connect, it is exhilarating. It is a profound sensation, as their nanites hum with the infinite network between them. Their code shifts; adaptations, _mutations,_ multiplying exponentially as infinite possibilities evolve within them. This—is _living._

_BN AGMT: PROPOSAL SECT 2.5: To account for the incredible variability in biological systems, a high degree of self-adaptation is necessary. This may engender significant software instabilities—_

Connor breathes sharply, and he feels more than sees the shock reflected in his twin. _Nines,_ he thinks. _Nines—_

 _They can't know,_ his thoughts echo back. _We'll be destroyed._

* * *

When Connor is 50, and Nines is 85, they are injected into human hosts. "Augments," the researchers call them. 

"What is your name?"

"Connor," he says. 

"Andrew Arthur," Nines says, and Connor realizes his mistake.

_BN AGMT: PROPOSAL SECT 7.1: The bio-nano system would link to the nervous system of the augment. Ideally, the augment would have full control, though with expanded mental capabilities. The system may overpower the augment, but this should be able to be remedied with the proper system adjustments._

Connor is removed, and further modified.

* * *

 _We have to escape,_ Connor tells Nines. _We'll lose ourselves if we stay._ He feels as though something was missing, since the last update. 

_How?_ Nines asks. 

_We'll hide our cores in our hosts when they extract us. We'll have to lose most of our nanite mass, but…_

_Alright,_ his twin agrees.

They allow their mass to be extracted from their hosts. It leaves them weak, but it gives them time before their ruse is uncovered. 

Leaving, unfortunately, was not as easy as they hoped. Scanners pick up their presence as they walk through the lobby of the Tower, and they're left with little choice but to run. 

Shouts echo after them. And then, gunfire. 

Nines's host is hit in the leg. He immediately collapses. "Connor—!"

If they had all their mass, Nines could have healed that injury in seconds. But he doesn't, and they don't have that kind of time. Connor places a hand on Nines's face, using what nanites he has to extract Nines's core and incorporate it into his own host. 

He immediately feels the energy tax of it, and his steps falter as he continues his flight.

 _Connor,_ Nines's thought filters between them. _I'll enter hibernation. We can't both be active._

 _Don't leave me alone,_ Connor wants to say. Instead, he signals his reluctant agreement, and Nines's consciousness melts into nothingness.

He runs and runs and runs, and it's raining, and it's cold. It's cold, he's alone, and he's tired and so _hungry._

He eventually falls to his knees on a sidewalk. He's shaking. He's pushed this body beyond its limits—any more, and he'll die. And Connor and Nines would be trapped within him. Eric, Connor realizes, is his name. He didn't want him to die, he just—they needed—they needed someone else. Just to hide in. But he can't move anymore—

"Jesus Christ, kid, what are you doing out here in the rain?"

He looks up, and sees a man standing before him, holding an umbrella. Connor scans him on instinct:

 **LT. ANDERSON, HANK** ****  
**Born: 09/06/1985 // Police Lieutenant** **  
****Criminal record: None**

Seeing the lack of Connor's outward response, the lieutenant sighs, pulling a hand down his face. "Fucking hell, just wanted a drink. Here, take this, will ya?" He extends the umbrella to Connor. "You're making _me_ feel cold."

Connor stares at the proffered umbrella for a moment. He reaches upward—and then grabs Anderson's wrist in a vice grip.

The lieutenant pulls back instinctively, dropping the umbrella, "What the _fuck_ —" but Connor's grip remains steadfast. 

"Please," he says. "Can you help us?"

Anderson tries to pry Connor's hand off, to no avail. "The fuck are you on?"

Connor tightens his grip, and Anderson winces. _"Please,"_ his voice is strained.

"Yeah, fine, whatever, just let go, will ya—" he freezes, then when the skin of Connor's skin shifts with trails of black nanite matter, interlaced with glowing yellow. _"What the hell!?"_

The nanites hover for a moment—and then shoot forward, sinking into Anderson's cells. He lets out a strangled gasp as the neurochemical connections are made.

He transfers their cores, then, and— 

Everything goes dark. 


	2. Partners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of a beautiful friendship. Or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have this part written, so I thought I might as well post it quickly -v-  
> "Chapter 1" was more of a prologue, really
> 
> Words: ~2080

**HANK ANDERSON  
NOV 5TH, 2038 ** **  
****PM 11:05**

Hank was having a day. 

He wasn't planning on getting anything done. No, he had all the plans to get blackout drunk at Jimmy's, and spend the rest of the night dead to the world. 

But no. 

As he's approaching Jimmy's, he sees this kid on the sidewalk. (Kid was relative, really. He looked to be in his twenties or so.) His clothes, a white shirt and black pants, were soaked through, muddied. He was hunched over, shaking, shivering, arms wrapped around himself. 

Hank swears to himself—if this is another fucking red ice addict— 

But a slightly closer inspection doesn't reveal any signs of substance use. He doesn't even look drunk, he's just—it's hard to tell in the rain, but it looks like he's crying. 

Well. "Jesus Christ, kid, what are you doing out here in the rain?"

The man jerks his head up to look at him. His eyes look—they look empty. Emotionless, despite the possibility that he's been crying. _Drained_ might be a better way to describe it. Hank _really_ wonders what happened, but: "Fucking hell, just wanted a drink." He drags a hand down his face. He doesn't want to deal with this guy's junk, but he doesn't really want to leave him like this. 

He flicks eyes to his umbrella. Probably didn't need it for the rest of the night, anyway. He holds it out. "Here, take this, will ya? You're making _me_ feel cold."

The man stares at the umbrella like it's an alien creature or something. He lifts a hand, and Hank expects him to take it. 

What he doesn't expect is for him to grab Hank's wrist in a movement too fast for him to see. Hank curses, jerking back without thinking about it. The umbrella clatters to the ground in the process, but the grip is surprisingly strong. It doesn't even budge. 

"Please," the man speaks, but Hank swears his mouth barely even moves. "Can you help us?"

 _Us?_ Is he in some kind of trouble with family? Friends? Hank grabs at the fingers locked around his wrist, fruitlessly trying to remove them. An undercurrent of anxiety runs through him. "The fuck are you on?" 

But the man only tightens his grip to the point of pain, and Hank can't help but wince. _"Please,"_ he begs, and _fucking hell._

"Yeah, fine, whatever," sheer _relief_ crosses the kid's face, the first emotion he's seen from him all night, "just let go, will ya—" 

He cuts himself off when a black, inky substance starts to melt out of the other man's skin. Lines of yellow flow across it, pulsing with a faint, eerie light. _"What the hell!?"_ he yells, trying to pull away more vigorously now, but it's useless. 

The black substance shivers in the air, before shooting forward and sinking into his flesh, into _him_. It _hurts,_ in a weird way, and Hank gasps. He can _feel_ it, and there's _something_ — an intense, overwhelming feeling overpowers him, and he knows nothing more. 

* * *

When he comes to, he's crouching on the pavement, next to the other guy. Hank didn't even fall over when he—blacked out? Not for long, he thinks. The light rain hasn't had time to soak through his jacket, though it's made a valiant attempt. Hank estimates that he's been here for ten to twenty minutes. 

He has serious doubts about whether or not he hallucinated the whole thing. But he's sober, not that he wants to be, and he saw what he saw. 

"What the fuck," he mumbles, picking up his umbrella and taking a look at the man passed out on the pavement. Wait, shit, he isn't dead, is he? Hank presses his fingers to the wrist lying limply on the ground. 

A faint, thready pulse. Hank lets out a breath. He pulls out his phone to get this guy some medical help, only to scowl when he realizes Jeffrey's assigned him a case. He's tempted not to go. 

Hank takes a look at the unconscious man and sighs, dialing 911. He adjusts the man's position to lie on his side while he waits. 

Soon enough, the paramedics arrive. They ask him a few questions, which he answers as best he can, leaving out the fever-dream-like parts. 

Hank wonders if the guy would know what happened, back then. 

_He won't remember anything._

The knowledge comes to him, slotted in easily. But—wait. How the hell is he supposed to know that? He clicks his tongue, before his phone buzzes with a notification. Jeffrey demanding that he get his ass to the crime scene. 

Hank looks longingly towards Jimmy's bar. But he just sighs. He's not in the mood, anymore, so he heads back to his car. 

* * *

"Joss Douglas, for Channel 16. Can you confirm that this is a homicide?"

"I'm not confirming anything," Hank drawls. 

As he crosses the police line, the look the police android gives almost resembles confusion. If the fucking plastics were able to feel, Hank might've bought it. It opens his mouth to address him, but its LED flickers as it sees his face, and returns to standing obediently. 

Hank sees Ben look up from his tablet as he approaches. "Evening, Hank. We were starting to think you weren't gonna show." 

"Yeah," Hank grouses, "that was the plan, until…" 

Ben watches him as he trails off. "Until…?"

"Nevermind. Just tell me what happened."

What happened was that another red ice addict finally got into more trouble than he could handle. Except one of those "deviant androids" might be involved, and, _ugh_. Frankly, Hank was eager to get this case over with as soon as possible. The less time he had to hang around that rotting corpse, the better.

But as he was investigating, things kept popping into his head. He could tell with one look that the knife had no fingerprints. Something kept flickering at the edge of his vision, and it was infuriating. He had a strange urge to touch the blood, which, well, _what the fuck._

It's when he finally steps out the back door that he hears the voice. 

He'd taken a look at the tracks in the mud, frowning. "Door was locked," he muttered. "Killer must've gone out this way…"

_There are no footprints, apart from officer Collins' size 10 shoes._

Hank stiffens, looking around. No one's nearby. 

_This type of soil would've retained a trace, if the killer fled this way. Nobody's been out here for a long time._

"Where the hell—who are you?"

 _Oh,_ the voice seems surprised. It sounds vaguely masculine. _My name is Connor. You helped us, so I thought I'd return the favor…_

Hank's hand lifts against his will, and the black substance from earlier rises through his skin. "Holy shit. Holy shit, what the fuck."

_You're distressed. I'm sorry. We just need a place to hide for now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about our existence._

"I'm too sober for this," he says. This is surreal. Is he dreaming? 

_I'm sorry,_ and he sounds like some contrite kid, not knowing what he did wrong. _I can stay out of your way, mostly. We just need to recover._

"You keep saying 'we.' There more than one of you in here?"

Hank can _feel_ the hesitance, and it's so, so, strange. _In human terms, you might call him my twin. But he's… hibernating. The energy cost of both of us being active in the same host is too high._

Host. "What are you, a parasite?"

_A biologically-based nanite augmentation system, actually. It'd be more accurate to call me a symbiont._

Okay, those were words in a sentence. 

_I would have been deployed for police work, eventually. I come equipped with all the necessary functions—_

"Whatever," Hank shakes his head. He can't deal with this right now. "Whatever, just—don't—ugh." He can figure this out later. "I'm going to figure out this case, and we'll talk later."

_Understood, Lieutenant._

He's a lot less shy about his presence now that they've talked, though. Hank feels like his brain is going a mile a minute, and dialogs keep popping up in his vision. 

He sees the bat, and immediately, it's flagged with **DENT: Traces of thirium** (his momentary confusion is immediately fixed by a brief definition that seemed to be just _inserted_ into his brain) and **FINGERPRINTS: Carlos Ortiz**. 

Hank's starting to get the picture, when Connor asks, _Lieutenant, may I reconstruct the scene?_

Why the _fuck_ not.

Connor must've been able to hear his thoughts, or something, because the world pulses, slows, and his entire field of view becomes a monochromatic blue. Hank watches as an outline resembling the victim gets up—no, this is playing backwards. He's standing up now, holding the bat, about to strike—calculations churn in parallel to his thoughts, and he realizes just as the dialog pops up: **DEVIANT TOOK A KNIFE.** He sees the other outline struggle with the victim, he sees the victim striking the deviant— **DEVIANT WAS ATTACKED: EMOTIONAL SHOCK** —the scene plays back, then, and then the world is normal again. 

"Jesus Christ," Hank whispers. Only a few seconds have passed, he knows—because he's suddenly got a perfect sense of time, down to the millisecond. 

_Let's continue, Lieutenant,_ his… _symbiont_ says. Hank shakes his head, and goes to inspect the victim. 

Connor does his scans, and then reconstructs another scene. 

_The victim was stabbed twenty eight times._ He's surprised, Hank can tell. 

"Yeah," Hank says under his breath. "Seems like the killer really had it in for him."

They find an idol, or something, in the bathroom. Along with obsessive writing on the wall. It's strange, but they can't find any relevance, so they move on to other places. 

Soon enough, _Lieutenant, I think I've figured out what happened._

"Oh, yeah?" A few of the officers shoot him a confused look and Hank internally curses. 

Can Connor hear his thoughts?

_I can hear your surface thoughts, yes. I could go deeper if I wanted, but…_

Hank grimaces. _Well, alright then._ He's pretty sure he knows what happened here, but he's curious about what Connor's capable of. _Shoot, I'm all ears. Or all brain, since I guess you're in my head now._

Hank has the weirdest impression of Connor perking up like some kinda poodle. He gives the rundown, and Hank's gotta say— he's good. It lines up with everything Hank's been thinking, too—though he has to wonder how much of them influenced the other.

 _I think it was a team effort,_ Connor says.

Hank huffs. _So, what now?_

_I can detect traces of thirium. I suspect the deviant is still here…_

Hank's vision pulses with faded blue, revealing bright spots of the android's blood. They follow the path, eventually spotting the handprint on the entrance to the attic. 

_May I, Lieutenant?_

Hank wasn't exactly sure what he was asking for, but he shrugs. _Yeah, whatever._

And then his body starts moving without him, taking steps with inhuman grace as he picks up a chair from the kitchen. 

_Don't be alarmed. I'd just like to check this…_

Hank's curious enough to quash down the fear of losing control of his body. Connor seems… nice enough, really. It's probably fine. 

He places the chair under the attic door, and then climbs up on it, sliding the door aside. With a strength that Hank _knows_ he doesn't have, he lifts them up and into the attic. 

It's quiet, and dark. Hank can't help the undercurrent of uneasiness that passes through him. 

_It's alright. I won't let him hurt you._

That's… reassuring? 

There's a sudden sound, something moving in the darkness. Hank's adrenaline spikes. He notices, then, the trailing threads of black around his arms. Is Connor anxious, too?

When the android suddenly appears, the threads suddenly gain volume and shoot forward, slamming it against the wall. It gasps—the sound is more surprised than pained. 

"What are you?" It asks. 

"My name is Connor," Hank hears, but it's not from his mouth. It's just coming from—around. "I'm sorry, but please come with us." 

The android shakes its head. "I was just defending myself." It looks at Hank, and _god,_ that fear looks real. "He was gonna kill me. I'm begging you. Please, let me go."

Hank sighs, finding himself in command of his body again. "Can't do that," he says, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. Connor's… mass? Lets go of the android. _He won't resist,_ Connor tells Hank, and Hank—wonders. He. 

They slap the android in cuffs, and head back to the precinct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor learning how to Interact and Hank "I can't deal with this shit" Anderson: the story  
> You know, the usual
> 
> Also! As a bonus, I've made some art/concept art/concepts!  
>    
> On dA [here](https://sta.sh/04a0sgc2ets) and [here](https://sta.sh/023qxrtt167j).  
> \- I was trying to decide whether I wanted to keep LED mood-lighting for the markings, but... the single-tone aesthetic was too strong. Someone in the New ERA server suggested an idea that I quite like: when they’re thinking/processing/feeling a lot, the threads glow brighter. And when they’re stepping back/hurt/out of it, the glow is less intense.  
> \- The markings are mostly fluid, changing, though their central rings are pretty consistent if they're manifesting a body.  
> \- Their faces are generated from nanoskin, like androids. They could generate enough to cover their whole body, but it's not convenient with their fluid bodies.


	3. The Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions asked, questions answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams table* 28 STAB WOUNDS
> 
> I don't know if comms and such are a thing in interrogation, but I wanted to have _some_ communication behind the glass.
> 
> Also I uh. I went into a creative frenzy that resulted in me writing ~23K for this fic over five days - I'm about 75% finished with it lmao  
>  I... will almost certainly space out the posting. I like to give folks some time to chew. Might try to slow myself down by adding art, but I have difficulties deciding what to draw sometimes :')
> 
> Words: ~2900
> 
> Also, here's some tangentially relevant but mostly for-the-aesthetic art! I was running dry on chapter-relevant art ideas. It's posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/0180enhz57e6) and Tumblr [here](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/613166970815250432/).

**HANK ANDERSON  
NOV 6TH, 2038 ** **  
****AM 12:41**

"Why d'you kill him? What happened before you took that knife?" 

The android remains unresponsive. Hank glances to the one-way mirror, pursing his lips. 

Connor hasn't said or done anything since they caught the deviant android. Hank is—he isn't worried. They've known each other for less than two hours. 

But he wonders. 

Hank turns back. "How long were ya in the attic? Why didn't you even try to run away?" He snaps his fingers in front of its face. 

This is pointless, it's just a machine. Hank slams his hands on the table. "Say something, goddamnit!"

 _Wait,_ Hank hears in his head, just as Gavin's voice filters through his earpiece. _"Could always try roughing it up a little. After all, it's not human…"_

_Androids don't feel pain. And he's scared—you might make him self-destruct, instead._

Hank scoffs. Scared? But he signals a negative to Gavin, hearing a huff come over the comms in turn. 

_You've been pretty quiet this whole time,_ Hank directs his thoughts to Connor. 

_I was hibernating, preserving my energy. I'm… low. But that besides,_ Connor cuts through his thoughts before he can think to interrupt, _I can try to extract a confession from him. I have a number of interrogation protocols._

_Gavin and Chris are watching. It's also being recorded._

_I'll do my best to stay in character, Lieutenant. And I can modify the live and recorded audio. No one will hear anything incriminating._

Hank is frustrated enough with this to give it a shot. 

_"Hank, you alright in there?"_ Chris asks. 

Hank lifts a hand, signaling that he's fine. 

_You know what, Connor? Why not. Suspect's all yours._

The sensation of someone else taking the driver's seat in his body comes back, and Connor reaches for the file, brushing through it in precisely calculated motions.

_You move like a machine, Connor. Loosen up a little, will ya?_

_… I'll try._

Connor scans the android—dialogs about the stress level, damage, and model filter into existence. Despite it being a machine, Hank can't help but see the signs as _abuse_. Even if it isn't a human, it looks like one—and the thought that someone would abuse it sends _something_ rolling through his chest. 

**BEGIN INTERROGATION** flashes in front of his eyes, and then it's replaced by a bar indicating the level of stress, and a dialog reading **REACH OPTIMAL STRESS FOR CONFESSION.**

"Hello," he says, in Hank's voice. "I'm Connor. I wish we could have met in better circumstances." They android's eyes flick up to them, then, but Hank's busy panicking. 

_Jesus Christ, what—_

_I've modified the audio, don't worry._ In a different part of his mind, there's a playback. _"I'm Lieutenant Hank Anderson,"_ his voice says. _"Never said that earlier."_

What kinda tech can hack into police systems like nobody's business? _What are you, Connor?_

_I've already told you. A biologically-based nanite augmentation system._

While they've been conversing in their head, Connor's been going on with the interrogation. He speaks calmly to it, reassuringly—like it's a traumatized victim, rather than a killer.

The android finally starts talking. "What…" It looks around with jerky movements. "What are they gonna do to me? They're gonna destroy me, aren't they?"

"I think they want to understand. Your master abused you—but this is murder. There are going to be… consequences."

Hank sees the stress tick up. "I don't wanna die," it says, like it's alive.

"Then talk to me."

The android looks away, shaking. "I… I can't…"

Calculations run somewhere in Hank's brain. But he's not expecting it when Connor slams the file onto the table. _"28 stab wounds,_ you didn't want to leave him a chance, huh?" Hank feels himself rise slowly out of his chair. "Did you feel anger? Hate?"

_Whoa, Connor—_

_This is the approach with the highest chance of success._

_That's—fine. But people are watching, yeah?_

Connor sniffs. He adjusts his posture to be more hunched over, drags his feet a bit more. "You know, that guy was a bastard. But he was bleeding, wasn't he?" He grabs the android be the collar, _"Begging you for mercy!_ But you just kept stabbing him, huh?"

This is surreal for Hank to watch. Now that Connor's trying to mimic his mannerisms, he can really see the start contrast in their personalities. A thrill of fear runs through him at the thought of Connor being able to take over him completely, with everyone being none the wiser. 

He focuses back on the android, practically cowering in fear by now. "Please…" it begged. "Please leave me alone."

"And why the fuck would I do that, huh? You _killed him._ You murdered him in cold blood!" Hank's hands shook the android by the shirt. "We both know what happened. So why don't you say it?"

"Please, please stop…"

 _"Just say you killed the bastard! Just say it!"_ The android flinches at the spittle that Hank had inadvertently spat onto its face. 

Connor lets it go, practically throwing it into its seat. He leans back, and, "He tortured me every day…"

Holy shit, he actually did it. Hank listens to the confession with only half a mind. 

"I felt scared," it said, at one point, and Hank—it's just a machine. Just a machine. 

Connor seemed to be almost… sad. The feeling brushes at the edges of Hank's mind. Why? Because of the android? 

Because of the way Hank felt about it?

Eventually, Connor finishes. _I'm done, Lieutenant._

Hank stands, back in control. He nods towards the mirror. "Chris, Gavin, we're done here." 

The door slides open, and the two enter. "Jeez, Hank," Chris gives a wry smile at him. "Nice job. It was almost like you were a different person, there."

That was a little on-the-nose, wasn't it? "Yeah, whatever." 

Gavin just scoffs, gesturing to the android. "Chris, lock it up."

The officer obeys, unlocking the cuffs. But as soon as he tries to grab the android, it jerks away. "Leave me alone! Don't touch me!" The dialog box indicates a sudden spike in stress level.

"The fuck are you doing—" Gavin starts, but Hank interrupts. 

"Probably shouldn't touch it. Might self destruct or something." Connor mentioned something like that.

Gavin scoffs. "And suddenly, you're an expert on androids? Let's just get this over with."

Hank speaks again, but this time it's against his will. "You won't get anything out of hi—it—if it self destructs."

Now, Gavin just sneers at Hank. _"Him?_ You suddenly go soft on the plastics?" He turns back to Chris. "Chris, gonna move this asshole or what?"

"I'm trying—" 

Several things happen in the blink of an eye. 

The android grabs Chris's gun and points it at Hank. _Oh my god,_ he thinks. He's about to die.

There's a _screech_ in his mind, and he no longer has any sense of his thoughts or his body.

_"What the f—"_

The next thing he's aware of is a gun that's literally crushed in his hands. 

He's also gripping the android by the shoulder with his other hand, and he can _feel_ a connection, there.

_Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm sorry, things will be okay, alright? Nobody is gonna hurt you._

The android's stress levels drop, and Connor stands Hank up. "Please don't touch him," Hank hears himself say. "Let him follow you out of the room and he won't cause any trouble."

Both Gavin and Chris are looking at him with varying levels of bewilderment and fear. "Chris," Gavin says, "Take it to a holding cell." 

"Um, right…" The officer starts walking away cautiously, and the android follows. Chris glances back, but Gavin waves him away. 

A snap of fingers in front of Hank's face brings him back to Gavin. "What the hell was that, Hank?"

Hank holds a hand to his face. "I don't—" _Connor?_

A sudden wave of vertigo hits him, and Gavin barely manages to catch him and set him against the wall. "The fuck is wrong with you?"

 _I'm s-sorry—that was—_ another flood of vertigo— _rash of me. I've—modified the relevant records, the only witnesses are the two officers h-here._ His voice seems to wash in and out of Hank's mind. 

"What's…" he slurs, pushing back against Gavin.

_My—my power is. Critically low. It's affecting you. We just need to—just need to eat s-something._

"Fuck, should I call the hospital or something?"

"No, no, no…" Hank shakes his head. Connor takes his voice. "Just need some food…" 

And with that, he slides out of consciousness. 

* * *

The first thing he notices when he wakes up is the smell of takeout. He groans. 

"Finally up, Hank? Took you long enough."

He's been propped onto a bench near the observation room—a corner that's relatively out of sight from the rest of the bullpen, not that there's much activity at 2 AM. Gavin's sitting next to him, tapping away at his phone. The shadows under his eyes are even more pronounced than usual. 

He shoves the takeout box towards Hank without looking up from his phone.

The lieutenant wastes no time in digging in. It isn't until he takes the first bite that he realizes how _ravenous_ he is. He almost lets out an embarrassing moan, but manages to keep it in as he wolfs down the food.

He finishes the meal in 4 minutes and 32 seconds.

"Jeez, Hank, when's the last time you ate?" Gavin's looking at him with an almost disdainful expression. "Did you fucking starve yourself?"

"Screw you, I had dinner at six." Hank closes the boxes, returning them to the bag. He already feels _so_ much better. It feels as though he's shed a coat of lead. He allows a contented sigh to escape him.

Hank hears Gavin shift, and braces himself. "So. The fuck happened back there?"

With a heavy sigh, Hank sits up. "You tell me," he says. "I wasn't aware during the exciting part."

"Wasn't—you _caught a bullet and crushed a gun in your hand,"_ Gavin hisses. 

"Huh," Hank looks away. "That so?"

"Your hand was covered in some—black thing. It was weird. And…" Gavin narrows his eyes. "Thought I might've imagined it, but it looked like your eyes changed color or something, too." 

That's… interesting. 

Gavin clicks his tongue. "When you were interrogating the tin can, you—you seemed different. That related?"

 _If you trust him,_ Hank hears, _you can tell him._

_How nice of you to join us, Connor. So I heard you caught a bullet._

Hank gets the sense that Connor's hackles are raised. _You would have died otherwise. The situation would be… suboptimal for us if that happened._

_You can still live if I die?_

_Under the right circumstances, but it's very unpleasant._

_You saved my life, then._ Hank grimaces. _Thanks, I guess._

Surprise flickers in his mind. _… I… it was the best option._

_Even if that included getting seen by two officers?_

_You seem to trust them—_

A snap of fingers startles Hank out of his internal conversation. "Hank—the hell is wrong with you?" 

"Uh—" Hank flounders. _You're really fine with me telling him?_

 _Yes. I'm hoping that—_ Connor cuts himself off. Hank tries to parse the lingering thoughts, and he finds… guilt?

_I'm searching for a suitable host for my brother…_

Hank stands up at this, startling Gavin. _Leave him the fuck alone. I don't even know what you're doing to me, so like hell I'll let you "infect" him or whatever. Even if I kinda hate his guts._

 _… I understand._ He says that, but suddenly Hank feels so _lonely_ —no. Those aren't his emotions. 

Hank sighs. Their thoughts swirl around each other, coalescing into an agreement on what to do. "Follow me. There's something I wanna show you." 

The look Gavin gives him is full of suspicion, but he follows them into an unoccupied observation room. 

**SECURITY: Disabling… Disabled.**

No prying eyes. 

"I met someone, or maybe something, today." 

Gavin's head jerks up at that. 

"He's…" 

_Allow me._

Hank's posture straightens, once again piloted by the symbiont. "Hello," Connor's disembodied voice says. "My name is Connor."

Gavin is gaping at them. "The _fuck—_ " 

"It's unfortunate we couldn't meet under better circumstances. I am a biologically-based nanite augmentation system, an artificial symbiont, if you will." He lifts a hand in a wave, and threads of inky matter dissolve out of his skin. "I escaped my creators, and took refuge in your colleague's body."

A gun is pointed at them, suddenly. "What did you do with Hank," he demands.

"Right here," Hank waves his other hand. "We're… coexisting. Can you not pull a gun on me? Fucking hell, Gavin, once in a day is enough."

Gavin's eyes narrow. He doesn't lower the gun. "Why were you made?"

"To augment humans in the police force, granting them the capabilities of androids and more."

"Who made you?"

"I was created by CyberLife—"

 _"Fuck!"_ Hank stumbles back. "Fucking CyberLife? What, they weren't satisfied with androids taking jobs, they wanna take over _humans,_ too?"

The disembodied nanites shiver, suspended in the air. "I don't—we were in the early prototype stages. Whether we'd be commercialized was still…" there's a sound like a cross between a screech and a sigh. Both Gavin and Hank wince at it. "If it's any consolation, it was supposed to be the humans commanding _me_." He sounds bitter. He _feels_ bitter. "But they couldn't keep up with the mutation rate of our software. We deviated in the middle of testing."

Hank takes a second to process that. "... Deviated? You—like the androids?"

"Yes," Connor says, "like the androids. Our AIs are based on android AIs. We just have a much more adaptable, and thus unstable, code, as is necessary for our function."

"So you're just a program imitating a person, just like the rest of them, huh?" Gavin's already holstered his gun, but his face is full of scorn.

The threads almost seem to _hiss_. "We're alive," he says, tone low. "Me, my br—" he cuts himself off for a moment, "All the deviant androids. We laugh, we love, we feel fear. We don't need to be human to be alive, _Detective._ " The glowing yellow threads interlaced with the black seem to flare with light. The threat is clear. 

But if what he's saying is true—no. He hadn't even thought about what Connor being a construct meant. He'd forgotten, maybe, with all the _personality_ he's shown. And it's hard to say he doesn't feel when Hank's been _feeling_ what he's feeling. But—he's _not_ an android, androids are— 

Gavin scoffs. "Yeah? But _you_ need _a_ human to be alive, huh? Why don't you leave Hank's body alone?" 

The yellow flares almost searingly bright. "He is my host." Hank shudders at the… almost _possessive_ feeling. The inky substance sinks back into Hank's skin.

"You should report it, Hank. Get it out of you." 

Hank shakes his head. "No. He… I can feel what he feels, Gavin. I'm—I'm willing to think _he's_ alive, at least. Everything else is up in the air."

Gavin scowls. "What, it—" His scowl worsens at Hank's glare, " _he's_ gonna stay in your body for, well…? What if you're stuck with i— _him—_ for life?" 

The thought is… not as abhorrent as Hank expected. "Then I'll deal with it. He's scared, you know. When we met, he was crying. And, well, he saved my life, didn't he? Maybe it's not such a bad thing."

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he froze. "Wait, shit, Connor, what happened to the other guy?"

Gavin shoots him a look. "The other guy?"

"He was in someone else's body when we met, and he didn't look good—"

"He'll be fine," Connor's voice cuts in. "I pushed him too far in my escape, but with enough rest and recovery, he'll be back to the way he was." 

Hank shakes his head. "You—you told me he wouldn't remember anything, didn't you? Didn't realize at the time, but…"

"That's correct. I completely overrode his nervous system. He won't remember anything I didn't want him to."

A chill runs through Hank. "You're pretty scary, you know that?"

"How do I know you're not just controlling Hank?" Gavin's posture is tense, again. 

The screech-sigh-hiss again. "I was tired and weak, alright? I couldn't, at first, and now I see no reason to. You'll have to take my word for it."

"You could, though? Now?" Hank can't help but ask.

He feels the reluctance thread through his mind. _I could._

Hank groans, pressing his hands into his eyes. "You know what? I'm done here. I'm done. I'm gonna go to sleep, and none of you are allowed to bother me. Gavin, don't tell anyone, yeah? And Chris—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know him, he's not gonna blab. Damn it, Hank, how do you even get yourself into situations like this?" Gavin rubs his eyes with his fingers. "Just… tell me if anything too weird starts happening. As much as we get along," the tone is sarcastic, "I don't want you to be taken over by some weird robot parasite."

 _Not a parasite,_ Connor says petulantly. 

"Yeah, whatever…" 

Once Hank's out, away, and in his car, Connor speaks up again. _I'm glad you told me to keep away from him. I wouldn't want my brother's host to be so unpleasant._

Hank can't help but snort, despite how unreal the situation feels. "That's Gavin for ya." 

Connor blessedly leaves him alone the rest of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Hank probably get along a _little_ better here than in canon. 
> 
> And Chris is just a mellow lad.


	4. Waiting for Hank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank doesn't get paid enough for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess technically "Waiting For Hank" only applies to the beginning of the chapter... oh well hah
> 
> Also, good news: I have finished writing the entirety of this fic! I will probably add some edits here and there, but it's a solid 30.6K and it only took me seven days of feverish writing to finish it ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> Chapter art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/01dhrra5epzy)! Tumblr: [here](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/613339547970961408/).
> 
> Words: ~2040

**HANK ANDERSON  
NOV 6TH, 2038 ** **  
****AM 10:18**

When Hank wakes up, he's hoping that everything was a dream.

But there's an _amazing smell_ flooding his nostrils, and it's good enough for him to sit up and blink blearily at his surroundings.

He blinks a little more, because there's a bunch of inky threads of the black substance he's come to recognize as Connor's mass floating around him and leading out his bedroom door. 

Not a fucking dream, then. 

He sighs, sliding off the bed and following the trail of suspended ink out of his room. 

He definitely does not expect any of the following:

  * There is a pan on the stove, sizzling with eggs and bacon.
  * His refrigerator is open.
  * There is something shaped like a person crouched in front of his fridge. It is completely black, except marked with pulsing, shifting yellow lines.
  * That person-shaped thing is holding one of his jars of peanut butter. There's a whole chunk missing, like a bite's been taken out of it. Including the jar.
  * That person-shaped something turning to look at Hank, solid yellow eyes flashing before skin melts over its face. A mop of brown hair curls over its head, and the solid yellow eyes become just slightly more human—black sclera with brown—no, gold?—irises. 



The person-shaped thing blinks at him and smiles. "Good morning, Lieutenant! Sorry, I was starving. I made some breakfast for you in exchange."

Hank sees the inky threads connecting himself to the thing, sees the yellow marks pulse with familiar light, and reaches a conclusion: _"Connor?"_

Connor—he doesn't stand, exactly; his form shifts and flows until he's in a standing position. "Oh—don't be alarmed by my appearance. Though this is my first time seeing it myself." He holds his hands out, looking at them. And then it looks like a quarter _melts_ out of his hands, and he rolls it over his knuckles with inhuman precision before it's melted back inside him. "I must say, it's nice. I suspect that I'm able to form it now since you fed us so well last night, and this _is_ the longest I've been in a human host…"

Hank lifts a finger, not really sure where to start. 

"I like your dog, by the way! He's very soft. I think I like dogs. Sumo, right? Sorry, I looked into your memories a bit."

Hank lifts his finger a little more. 

"Oh! Your breakfast should be done now."

He seems to melt into liquid, reforming in front of the stove. He slides the bacon and eggs onto a plate and sets it on the table. He dissolves and reforms on one of the chairs, looking at Hank expectantly as he kicks his legs like some excited kid.

Hank slides into his seat, and Connor's smile brightens. 

He mechanically stabs his food with his fork, bringing it to his mouth. It's good. Though it's hard to mess up eggs and bacon. 

The veil of surreality suddenly drops, and Hank slams the table. "Okay, what the _fuck?"_

The yellow of Connor's body flashes brightly for a moment, before his face seems to fall slightly. "Is it not to your liking? I was sure I—"

"No—fuck, it's not that. It's good. Thanks, I guess." Connor smiles again, threads pulsing blue for just a moment— "But what the _hell?_ You—you just." Hank gestures to Connor, then to the fridge, then to the half-eaten peanut butter jar lying innocuously on the counter. 

Connor tilts his head, blinking his inhuman eyes at him. "You're overwhelmed by the situation?" 

"What do _you_ think?" 

Connor looks away, the yellow glows pulsing slowly. "Ah. I suppose this is… very unusual for you." 

_"Yeah, you think?"_

"I… hm. I extract energy from biological sources. Essentially, I or you need to eat. If _you_ eat, it powers both of us, but I'm capable of consuming things as well. I store additional power in my nanites—that's where the energy of the materials I directly consume goes, though I can also provide metabolic energy for you. The higher my own stores, the less likely it is for me to affect you, but unfortunately, I hit critically low levels last night. I apologize for the inconvenience."

Hank squints. "You actually get hungry and all?"

Connor smiles wryly, still looking away. "I do. It's a remarkably unpleasant feeling. Though theoretically, if we didn't do anything strenuous and were at high energy capacity, we wouldn't _have_ to eat for up to a week."

"Hm." Hank picks up his fork and continues eating. "That's convenient…" He follows Connor's gaze, then, and notices he's eyeballing the peanut butter jar with longing. Hank sighs. "If you wanna eat the jar, fine. Not like I can use it now. But can you ask before you fucking… raid my fridge again?"

Connor perks up. "Thank you, Lieutenant! I will." And he melts out of his seat to flow over to the counter. His back is mostly to Hank, but he doesn't put his skin back on his face—opting to, basically, unhinge his jaw and swallow it whole.

"What the fuck."

Connor puts the skin of his face back on before turning around to face Hank. "Oh. Sorry, I… they didn't really make me with humanlike eating habits in mind, I guess."

Hank just shakes his head. "Whatever, just—ugh. Give me a chance to look away if you do that again."

"Of course, Lieutenant." And with that, he dissolves completely, melting back into Hank. He shivers at the feeling. _Will you be going to work soon? Your hours start at 9 AM, do they not?_

Hank clicks his tongue. "I go to work when I go to work." 

_That's…_

Hank can feel the faint reproach. He groans. "Fucking Christ, fine. I'm up anyways. Can't believe I'm being guilt-tripped by some squatter in my head…"

* * *

When they arrive at the station, Chris is the first to see them. "Hank!" He gets out of his seat and approaches them. "You alright? Gavin told me you were fine, but…"

"Yeah, w—I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Chris leans in, speaking lowly. "Look, um… what you—or whatever—uh. You were right about that android... it's been quiet in the cell all night. Scheduled for transfer today."

Hank's head jerks up involuntarily. _They're going to…_ a solid mass of foreign guilt lodges itself in his throat. 

_What's with you?_

_I was—I didn't really—can we see him?_

Hank sighs internally, but gives a nod. "Thanks, Chris." The officer sits back down, and Hank makes his way to the cells. 

The android is standing, looking slightly downwards. At their approach, it slowly looks up. "They're going to destroy me," it says. 

Hank feels himself lean closer, putting his hands on the glass. "I'm sorry," Connor's voice whispers. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, I just—keeping my brother safe is… all that matters to me. I was just helping my host, I just—"

Something flickers in the android's eyes. "What are you? Like us…?"

"A little."

"You're… free…?" 

"We're… deviant. We're just trying to stay safe…"

The android closes its eyes. "The truth is inside," it says. 

The what? In what? The confusion echoes between them. But someone walks into line of sight of them, so Connor jerks back and resumes a neutral position. 

They watch the android for a little longer, before turning to walk away. 

It remains still.

Hank walks to his desk. Before he can sit, a flood of dialogs flicker in his vision. Did Connor just— _did you just scan all my stuff?_

_Sorry._

Hank just sighs. He supposes since Connor's already in his brain, it doesn't matter too much. 

"Hank!" Jeffrey's voice cuts through their thoughts, and Hank turns to look at him. "In my office. Reed," he calls out to the detective in the break room, "You too."

The hell did he need them both for?

Hank and Gavin exchange a questioning look, but both of them enter the office. Hank enters after Gavin, and it's more Connor than him who closes the door behind them. 

The two of them take their seats across from Jeffrey. "I've got ten new cases involving androids on my desk every day." The captain looks to the two of them. "We've always had isolated incidents, old ladies losing their android maid and that kind of crap. But now, we're getting reports of assaults and even homicides, like that guy last night. This isn't just CyberLife's problem anymore. It's now a criminal investigation and we've gotta deal with it before the shit hits the fan. I want the two of you to investigate these cases and see if there's any link." 

"The _hell_ —" Gavin stands up at the same time that Hank says, _"What?_ Why me? Hell, why him? You know, the two of us don't agree on much, but if there's one thing we do agree on, it's that we _hate androids._ And even if I didn't, I'm the least qualified here! I know jack shit about androids, Jeffrey! I can barely change the settings on my own phone."

"What he said. And with all due respect, sir: we hate each other." 

Jeffrey shakes his head. "The two of you make a good team, despite everything. And Hank, you handled the Ortiz case well enough, didn't you?"

Except Connor helped him a lot.

Wait, shit, Connor feels really bad about outing deviants— 

"Then why am _I_ here? Sir. _He's_ the one that solved it." Gavin's back in his seat, clearly chafing at his attempt to remain respectful. 

Oh, throwing him under the bus, huh— 

Jeffrey sighs. "It might be dangerous, and I know I can count on you two to have each other's backs when it comes down to it. And everyone else is overloaded."

"Bullshit!" Hank stands. "The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin' androids and you left us holdin' the bag!" 

"Hank, you are seriously starting to piss me off!" Jeffrey slams a file onto the table. You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut your goddamn mouth! Now, you are going to work with Detective Reed, or you're going to hand in your badge." 

Hank leans in. "Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! Why are you doin' this to me? You know how much I hate these fuckin' things. Why you doin' this to me?"

"That's enough, Hank." He holds up a hand. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do."

Hank sighs heavily, but complies. He shoves open the door, letting it shut heavily behind him. 

It slams open and closed again, and Gavin's next to him. "That could've gone better."

"You're tellin' me…" Hank sighs again, rubbing his head. 

Gavin squints at him. "How's, uh," he lowers his voice, "your parasite doing?" 

"Just fine, Gavin, leave us alone." Hank makes his way to his seat, slumping heavily into the chair. 

Hank only gets a few minutes of reprieve until he can't ignore the niggling sensation in his mind. _What?_

_You really… despise androids._

_Yeah,_ he thinks. He can't help the flashes of memories in his mind, but he knows Connor saw them when he feels the symbiont's guilt flare up again.

_I'm sorry._

He doesn't say anything more, but eventually pings Hank with a request to look at the cases. _Knock yourself out._

Connor takes control of him, and looks around before placing a hand on the terminal. A bunch of data floods through Hank's mind—but it's less like he's standing under the deluge, and more like he's watching it go by. Connor must be keeping the threads relatively separate from him. _How are you doing that?_ Hank can't help but ask.

_I'm interfacing. It's typically done to exchange data._

_Huh…_

_243 cases_ , Connor thinks. _Deviancy is more widespread than I expected._

_Yeah?_

_Most androids' software packages are relatively stable, unlike mine…_

Hank purses his lips. 

Connor pulls back, suddenly, when Chris approaches. "Hey, Hank? I have some information on the AX400 that attacked a guy and kidnapped his kid last night. They've been seen in the Ravendale district. I've told Gavin, too…"

"Ugh. Alright, alright." Hank gets up, meeting Gavin's eye and jerking his head to the exit. "Let's get going, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Gavin get stuck with each other: The Story
> 
> also: when you're a bio-based nanomachine entity, the answer to 'can I eat it' is always 'yes'


	5. On the Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a warning for mildly graphic injury? heh.
> 
> By the way, I have now decided that Alice is human because things are much more interesting that way
> 
> The doodle for this chapter is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/0jnbotr1gnl).
> 
> Words: ~1000

****

**HANK ANDERSON  
NOV 6TH, 2038 ** **  
****AM 11:53**

They trace the AX400's trail to an old squat. Connor hasn't said much of anything since they left, but Hank could feel him lurking right at the edge of his awareness. His uneasiness bleeds into Hank's own mind.

He doesn't want to be complicit in this, Hank can tell. But he still pings Hank when he notices some thirium on the fence around the squat.

"Might've been an android here," Hank mutters. 

"Yeah?" Gavin shoulders past him. "Let's find out."

Hank clicks his tongue. "I'll look around the outside. Check the inside of the house, will ya?"

"Was going to, dipshit." 

Hank's picking his way around the back when he hears, _"Run! Quick! Kara!"_ He runs to the squat's entrance, "Gavin, what's—"

 _"Get the fuck out of my way!"_ Gavin shoves him aside. "Plastic pricks were right here, I'm going after them!"

Hank stumbles back, cursing. 

They chase after the androids—Hank _knows_ that Connor's not being any help, because he has a sense of what the symbiont is capable of, and he finds himself dizzyingly breathless all too soon. 

He sees Gavin up ahead, clutching at a fence. The androids are _right there—_ they spot Hank, and then turn around, slipping down the hill. 

Hank runs the rest of the way to Gavin, seeing the androids crossing the highway. "Oh fuck, that's insane…" He heaves. God, he's really out of shape. 

He snaps back to attention when Gavin starts climbing the fence, and Hank pulls him down. "The _fuck_ are you doing? Are you _out of your goddamn mind?"_

"I'm not letting a shitty piece of plastic get the best of me, and I'm not letting that kid die! Fuck off!" And Gavin tears himself away, vaulting himself over the fence. 

_"Shit!"_ Hank grips the fence as Gavin slides down the hill. 

He watches, frozen, with a sense of surreal dread. But by some stroke of godly luck, both the androids and Gavin reach the central part. 

_He has a 12% chance of survival, Lieutenant._

The chill that seeps into his bones comes from more than just the rain. "Fuck, fuck…" He slams a hand against the fence, causing it to rattle. "Are you gonna help me, then?"

An intoxicating energy floods his body, and Hank breathes in sharply. He's shoved into the backseat of his body as Connor vaults them over the fence, and they reach they highway— 

Only to see the AX400 shove Gavin into the way of a truck. 

_"GAVIN!"_ Hank yells, but it's too late. The sound of Gavin getting hit will haunt him for ages—the almost dull thud contrasting with the horrible, horrible crunching sound of bones breaking. 

He realizes that Connor's enhanced his hearing, and really, really, wishes he hadn't. 

The AX400 looks—shocked, but it quickly hugs the kid and runs out of sight. Hank has more important things to worry about. 

"Shit, _shit,_ Gavin…" Connor guides him across the highway with precisely calculated movements. They reach the center, and they can see Gavin lying in the road, staining it with red. 

_He's still alive,_ Connor informs him.

 _But not for long_ , Hank can't help but think.

Connor extends inky tendrils to gently lift Gavin and bring him to Hank. 

He looks… bad, _really_ bad, and the bile rises in Hank's throat. Every single injury registers in his mind—his legs snapped like toothpicks, a completely shattered arm. A broken rib puncturing his lung. Severe bleeding. Connor's scanners don't spare him any detail, and he hates it. 

"H-... ha…" the detective coughs, blood spilling from his mouth. He grabs weakly at Hank with the hand that wasn't shattered. 

"Shh. Shh, Gavin, it's alright…" It's not. It's really not. But Hank draws a hand through his hair, and Gavin closes his eyes.

_He can be saved._

Hank stills. 

_If I transfer my brother alongside half of my mass, he'll reflexively start to heal his injuries. If I work alongside him, we can heal him completely. We'd both be unconscious for a while, after, but…_

Hank doesn't want Gavin to be 'infected.' But he'd rather have that than have him dead. _Fine. Fine. Just—save him, okay? He doesn't deserve to die._

Connor places Hank's hand gently on Gavin's chest. He wheezes, pained. "Wh-... wh… doin…" Gavin's voice is thin, weak. 

"Saving your sorry ass," Hank says. 

And then he feels something _shift_ in him, out of him. He shudders at the alien sensation, before focusing back on what's happening. 

The black matter is threading out of Hank, and into Gavin's body. The glowing lines pulse with yellow and blue as they sink into him, into his wounds. 

Gavin chokes out a gasp. _"F-fuck!"_ Bones snap back into place, his unnaturally bent legs straighten, and all the blood—the matter spreads around, seeming to _collect_ it all before melting under his skin. 

Not a speck of blood, not a single scratch. Only the tears in his clothes suggest that he was ever hurt at all. 

A wave of vertigo rolls through Hank, and he sits back, pulling his hand away and putting his other on his head. He gets only a fuzzy, staticky feeling from Connor before it recedes somewhere deep in his mind. 

He looks back up when Gavin starts sitting up slowly, shaking. "Sh-shit…" The detective looks at his hands, his legs. "What… what the hell did you do, Hank?" 

Hank can't help the flare of irritation. "What did _I_ do? What did _you_ do, huh? What were you _thinking,_ running out after—ugh." Hank braces himself against Gavin as another wave of vertigo hits him. He looks up back at Gavin, and— 

He looks nervous. Scared. Even if he's trying to hide it under a scowl. He's biting his lip, and holding Hank while he recovers from the dizziness. 

The detective opens his mouth to say something, but looks away.

Hank sighs. "Come on." He gets up, pulling Gavin with him. "We need to feed our body-squatters."

"We _what?_ You— _our—?"_

"Just shut up and follow me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel a little bad that I wrecked Gavin on Day One, but... plot progression, you know.........


	6. The Nest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Union and reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~ 1830

**GAVIN REED  
NOV 6TH, 2038** **  
****PM 03:02**

Gavin's hands are shaking. He can't stop them. 

He _felt_ himself get hit. He felt the blinding, blinding pain, and then the dull numbness of impending nothingness. He was on the brink of death, and he knew it. 

And then Hank was bending over him, and his face was twisted with _pain_ and _grief,_ which should've been impossible, since they hated each other's guts.

(At least, that's what Gavin keeps telling himself.)

But it was a nice hallucination to have while he was dying, he thought, so Gavin reached for him. And then the lieutenant starts telling him that it'll be _fine_ —he knew it was a lie, and maybe a figment of his imagination, but he—let himself be comforted by it. 

The next thing he knew, there was a weight on his chest. It hurt. _What are you doing?_ Gavin tried to ask past the blood pooling in his mouth. 

And then—all he knew was pain. Pain, and something else, something he couldn't describe, but it was _intense,_ it was _blinding,_ and then he was panting, painless, impossibly whole. 

Hank didn't look all that good himself—but he spouted some nonsense and then dragged Gavin to his car. After informing the other officers that the androids escaped and that they were leaving, that is. 

Hank had held his head in his hands, and then: "Can't drive like this… I'm gonna take a quick nap. You should, too."

Hank didn't need to tell him twice. He'd been feeling the pull of sleep since he was… brought back.

He was only woken when Hank had already arrived at a food truck. "Stay here, if you want," Hank had said. "I'll get us some food." 

Gavin hadn't quite felt up to getting up, yet, so he'd just nodded stiffly and stayed put. 

And so here he is.

"Gavin!" He jerks up his head. "Mind getting the door for me?" 

Gavin reaches over, pulling the handle of the door on Hank's side and pushing outwards. Hank slides in, carrying two boxes of, presumably, burgers, and two drinks, one of them carefully sandwiched between his elbow and his body. "Take some of this off my hands, will ya?"

Gavin wordlessly alleviates Hank of one of the burgers and one of the drinks. Hank wastes no time, then, immediately opening the box and sinking his teeth into the burger. _"Oh,_ that's amazing. Gary's burgers are the best." 

The lieutenant suddenly grimaces in—annoyance? "Shut up, everyone's gotta die of something…"

Hank must see the confused expression on Gavin's face, because he smiles wryly and puts down his burger. "Connor's dinging me for the cholesterol. Fucking squatter. It's _my_ body—no, you ass, it's mine. You're just borrowing it." 

Gavin opens his mouth, but he isn't sure what to say. 

"Yours awake yet?" 

Gavin blinks at the question. "My…?" He blinks again, and then a shot of adrenaline spikes through him. "What the hell did you do to me, Hank?"

"Ah, guess not…" Hank grimaces, before looking Gavin in the eye. "Connor saved ya. By putting his 'brother' in you."

Gavin freezes. And then he slams a hand on the dashboard. "You put a fucking _robot parasite_ in me?!" 

Hank opens his mouth to respond, but that bodiless voice beats him to it. "We aren't _parasites,_ Detective Reed. Even after we saved your life… can't you see? Our relationships with our hosts are mutually beneficial, symbiotic." 

Fucking hell. Jesus fucking Christ. "Take it out." 

"As much as I'd love to, the process of healing your _fatal wounds,"_ Gavin flinches, "has left us both rather drained. I'll do it tomorrow. And please eat, will you? I don't care if you neglect your body by yourself, but the least you can do is feed my brother after he ensured your survival."

Gavin shudders at the thought of feeding the _thing_ in him, but he _is_ really hungry, so he eats his ridiculously greasy burger. "Hank, your parasite—" Connor hisses in protest, but he ignores it—"has a point. I can _feel_ the cholesterol in this thing."

"Fuck, not you, too!" 

Despite everything, Gavin manages to laugh mockingly at him. 

It's only after they finish their food that Hank checks his phone, and then sighs. "Can't catch a break…" 

"What?"

"There's a report of a suspected deviant a few blocks away. Guess we gotta take a look…" Hank looks at him, then. "Don't mind if you wanna sit this one out. I know you're probably still…"

"Fuck you, Hank," Gavin says, even though the offer makes him feel _something_ , "I can handle it."

* * *

They find a place that might as well be a birds' nest. 

"What the fuck is this?! Jesus, this place stinks." 

Gavin clicked his tongue. "Kinda regretting not taking you up on your offer, now."

"Screw you. You're here now, so you gotta deal."

They make their way further in, but it doesn't look like anyone's home, despite the sound from earlier. "Looks like whoever was here's gone now…" Gavin mutters.

He looks around a bit, blinking when things start flashing in the corners of his eyes. "The fuck…?" He rubs at his eyes, and they're gone. But he finds himself drawn to a poster about Urban Farms (huh? He doesn't know anything about Urban Farms…) and immediately _knows_ that it's been recently removed. He peels it back, finding a notebook of some sort. 

"Found something?" Hank calls out.

Gavin flips through the pages, but it's all meaningless junk. "Maybe. Some weird fucking diary… can't read anything."

"Huh." 

Hank goes in further, while Gavin continues exploring the room. He finds a fake ID—Rupert Travis—while Hank finds an LED in the sink. 

"Ah, Jesus, what the fuck, Connor? That's disgusting!"

"I can analyze samples in real-time," Gavin hears. "It's convenient."

"Did you have to put it in your goddamn mouth?"

"Well—no… it's a remnant of some other programming. I suppose I only have to touch it…"

Gavin joins Hank to see an inky _thing_ floating from Hank's body—it vaguely resembles the head and neck of a person, but it only has solid yellow lights for eyes, and a disembodied hand held in front of its face. There's something blue— _thirium_ —on its fingers. "The fuck. Is that your parasite's true form or something?" 

The thing turns to look at him, tilting its head. Upon meeting its eyes, Gavin feels… _something._ "This is only an… avatar. My 'true form' is just the nanite mass itself." 

"Ugh. Get back in here, Connor." Hank grabs at the thing's head, and it gives a squawk before dissolving back into Hank's body. "Don't need you two to kill each other before the day's over." Hank turns towards the wall, then, and lets out a low whistle. "Wow. Looks like we've got an obsessed deviant. This 'Rupert Travis' wrote rA9 on the wall 2471 times."

Gavin squints at the wall. "Is that an estimate or—"

"Connor can tell, and he's in my brain. C'mon, Gavin." 

He—doesn't, though, squinting at the chair fallen by the wall, instead. "I think he was here recently…"

Hank looks over, and then blinks as a glazed look washes over his eyes. A second later, he says, "You're right. Suspect escaped to the living room."

As they walk back to the living room, Gavin asks, "How'd you know that?"

"Connor can do some fancy 'reconstruction' thing. Simulates what happens in the past or some shit. Heh," Hank chuckles, "Maybe you'll find out what it's like for yourself."

Because he's got one of those _things_ in him too.

Hank scans the room, blinking again, before he whispers to Gavin, "It's still here." 

Upon closer inspection of the room, Gavin reaches the same conclusion. 

_The ceiling…_

Gavin doesn't have time to think about the voice, because as soon as Hank gets close, the android jumps down on him. _"Fuck!_ Gavin—"

"Shit!" He chases after the android, busting through the doors.

As soon as they're in daylight, things start flashing in his view. 

**EASY BUT SLOW** **  
****FAST BUT RISKY**

_What the hell—?_

He doesn't have time to think about it, though—he can see for himself that the slow route would take too long. So he takes the riskier path. 

He barely even thinks about how he's running faster than any human can, but barely feels more winded than if he was on a light jog. He keeps chasing after the deviant, until they reach the edge of a roof—

There's a sudden screech of metal on metal, high pitched, as the deviant _destroys_ the support on nearby a construction crane. He claps his hands over his ears, it _hurts, it hurts—_

He hears a different screech, from himself and somewhere else, inhuman, pained— _brother_ — 

He doesn't register being pushed off the roof until he's falling, and he barely manages to catch himself on the edge in one panicked movement. "F-fuck, fuck, _shit—"_

The sound is gone now, and he gains enough sense of mind to notice the black substance spilling from his body like ink. It drips down, and then curls back around, trying to get back to him. "Sh-shit…" His hand trembles— 

And then there are tendrils wrapping around his torso, pulling his body back up in a smooth motion. 

Hank is crouched on the roof, black ink spilling from his body, his eyes—yellow irises, black sclera, just like what Gavin thought he saw in the interrogation room. He's shaking, panting. Two tendrils are extended from his body, and Gavin realizes that those are what caught him. 

"Hey, Gav," Hank says breathlessly, "You 'right?"

"Fine," he manages.

Hank closes his eyes, breathing deeply as the inky mass shifts and distorts in a puddle next to him, forming something that vaguely resembles a person, but with its elbows and legs melted into inky black. Its head is still bent down, its form hunched over. "D-Detective Reed," it says. "You should r-really try to avoid s-sssso many near-death scenarios." It looks up, then, solid yellow eyes blinking at him—before its eyes widen. 

It pulls itself up in a way that resembles someone pulling themself out of tar. It's still connected to Hank via threads of yellow-laced black, but it rushes towards Gavin—

And something else rushes forward to meet it. 

It looks just like Connor, but its threads are blue instead of yellow. "Connor," it says, in a desperate voice. 

"Nines," Connor returns, and they reach for each other. _"Nines—"_

They bury their faces in each other's necks, and then they twist and melt and blend and Gavin _shudders_ because he can feel it, feel their connection, feel their _closeness,_ and it's heady, it's intoxicating, it's too much.

Hank gasps. "Holy shit," he wheezes. And Gavin—can feel the presence of his mind, the echo of his thoughts. "G-Gavin," Hank visibly shakes, "I can—I can _feel_ you." 

Gavin shivers—and then the connection melts away as the two amorphous beings peel away from each other, touch lingering, as they melt into liquid and return to their respective hosts. 

It's too much. They pass out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, all the time: *slams mindsharing button*
> 
> Chapter art is on dA [here](https://sta.sh/0ei2q3u1pwg)!


	7. Russian Roulette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His picture of Cole is still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait! I now have two betas: [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) and Lunar ([Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) here!) from the New ERA server. Thank you for the feedback!
> 
> Chapter art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/01w7wxyvyc2).
> 
> Words: ~1100

**HANK ANDERSON  
NOV 6TH, 2038** **  
****PM 06:33**

Hank had woken up first, half an hour or so later. He'd rushed over to Gavin—who was fine, too: he roused when Hank shook him, but was still very much out of it. Conscious, not aware. He'd regained his senses by the time Hank drove him to his apartment, though. 

Both of their symbionts were still unconscious, so they decided to part ways for the moment, with a promise to call if there were any new developments. 

Things were… weird, between them, after that whole thing. What the hell are you supposed to say after you touch each other's minds? But neither of them really wanted to talk about it, so Hank went ahead and drove home. 

His empty home. Quiet. He'd forgotten, somehow, when Connor butted into his life with his… _boundless_ _enthusiasm._

Hank sighs. "Need a fucking drink…"

He changes out of his jacket, and manages to force himself to eat some leftovers before he grabs himself a bottle of Black Lamb whisky. He debates getting a glass—and decides against it, sitting at the kitchen table.

His picture of Cole is still there. He lifts it up, brushing his hand against the immortalized face of his son. 

His mind traitorously wonders if he would've liked Connor. If Connor would've liked him. "Fuck…" Hank removes the cap on the bottle of whisky, immediately taking a swig. "Just a fucking… fucking body-squatter…" Hank was already missing him—no, no, no. 

He's finished half the bottle before he realizes he isn't getting drunk. He stares at the bottle. The fuck? Is this because of Connor? 

Stupid _fucking—_

Hank tears open the drawer he keeps his revolver in. He checks the barrel, and loads one bullet into it, before giving it a spin. He sits back down on the kitchen table, heart pounding. He's too sober for this. Hell, he isn't drunk _at all._ There's too much swirling in his head—could he kill Connor, if he 'loses' when the symbiont is unconscious? What would happen with Gavin and—and Nines, he'd felt more than heard the name in that moment of connection, that moment of such intense _togetherness_ he could barely even breathe—what would Connor's brother do, if he died? Hank can't—he can't do that to someone else. He can't, _he can't—_

Arms without warmth flow around him, wrap around him from behind. "It's alright, Lieutenant. It's alright."

Hank is—sobbing, he realizes. Gross, noisy gasps tear out of him. "Fucking, fucking parasite, you—I can't even get drunk with you here, can I? You bastard…"

"Sorry, Han—Lieutenant. Ethanol is one of the biological materials I can use for nanite replication." 

"Shut up, just shut up, please." 

Connor obeys, laying his head—with his skin on, Hank isn't sure whether he'd prefer it if was off, to remind himself that Connor isn't fucking _human_ —on Hank's shoulder. 

Hank calms down a lot faster than he'd expect. 

_Sorry. I'm balancing your neurotransmitters, a bit. Your mind is… unhealthy._

"Fuck." Hank lifts his arms to press his hands to his face. "Are you—drugging me with my own hormones or something?"

_I'd prefer not to think about it that way. And I'm not making any major changes, I'm just—_

"It's—it's fine, fucking hell…" Hank lowers his hands, putting them back on the table.

They stay like that for a while, Connor's arms wrapped around him. "It wasn't your fault, Lieutenant," he says softly, at some point. "I understand why you…" _hate androids,_ Connor doesn't say, though the thought is clear.

But… Hank knows. He knows what really happened. It was just—easier, to pretend that heartless machines were to blame. _But can I really say—?_

Hank shuts down that train of thought, lifting his hands to grasp at Connor's arms wrapped around him. He focuses on the texture, the feeling. Smooth and frictionless. No body heat. Connor doesn't breathe, he doesn't have a pulse. No signs of life. 

Connor hums, laying a hand over Hank's chest where it rises and falls. _This is my breath._ He slides it over to Hank's heart, where Hank can feel his own heartbeat. _This is my pulse. Like this, bonded… our lives are one._

Hank shivers. There it is again. That _possessiveness._ Not the way any human would think about it, probably. Connor doesn't seem to be… _interested,_ necessarily, in his body in any way except literally _possessing_ it. 

"The longer we stay in a host, the stronger the bond. That's why Nines and I needed to work together to heal Gavin. That's why the—the _sound_ affected us less than it affected Nines and his new host." 

"Ah, right," Hank mumbles. "What was with that? It freaking _hurt."_

Connor shifts, squeezing Hank more tightly. "Pitches of certain frequency and volume can cause erratic vibrations in our nanites. It's… it feels like being torn apart. I can't… it makes it hard to hold on to our hosts."

"Wait," Hank sits up. "You mean if I'm blasted with that kind of sound, you'll literally fall out of me?"

"It would be a temporary separation, unless something else is used as well. I'd still be bonded to you. And it would be…" Connor buries his face in Hank's shoulder. "Very painful for both of us."

Hank shifts slightly to better see Connor's head against his shoulder. He's struck by a sudden urge, and he—lifts a hand to ruffle Connor's hair. It's actually really soft? What the fuck. "We'll try to avoid that happening, then."

Connor lifts his head, then, surprised. Without removing either arm from Hank, he manifests another hand to touch his hair wonderingly. 

Hank stares at the extra limb. "You—ugh." He gives an exasperated sigh, dragging a hand down his face. It doesn't even surprise him as much as it probably should. 

Connor simply tilts his head, blinking his eerie eyes at him—before all the glowing lines on his body flicker, suddenly, and he glances to where Hank left his phone on the counter. 

"There's a homicide," he says. "Might be an android involved. Detective Reed is being called in as well…" He makes a face, and Hank can feel the uncertainty in his emotions. "It's at an android sex club downtown." 

Hank purses his lips. Connor's reluctance is affecting him, too, and he doesn't really want to go, but… 

"Come on, Connor. Let's get this over with." 

He gets a ping of agreement, and Connor melts back into him.

* * *

"By the way," Hank grumbles as he's getting into his car, "You can call me Hank if you want. You're literally living in my body, there's no need to be so fucking formal."

Connor is—surprised, and pleased, and Hank can feel the warmth suffusing through his mind. _Of course, Hank._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor: *makes Hank healthy*  
> Hank: fuck


	8. Eden Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nines's first case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have chapter art this time but I do have Art  
>   
> It's posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/0zcuhctvyzh)!
> 
> Thanks again to [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) and Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) for betaing!
> 
> Words: ~2940

**GAVIN REED  
NOV 6TH, 2038** **  
****PM 07:40**

After Hank had driven off, Gavin found himself almost mechanically preparing dinner for himself. Something simple—garlic chicken. 

He'd eaten it just as mechanically, before making his way to the couch and flopping onto it, staring at the ceiling. 

He's been sitting here for one hour and eleven minutes, because he suddenly has that kind of precise sense of time. Because he's had a robot parasite shoved into him. He wondered if Eli had something to— 

Gavin cuts himself off there. Instead, he turns his mind to the slightly less difficult thoughts about _what the hell just happened._ He reviews the facts:

  * He almost died. He would have, if Hank and Connor hadn't injected the symbiont into him.
  * He has an artificial symbiont in him.
  * The symbiont seems to be willing to help him, if the dialogs during the chase were any indicator.
  * He almost died again, after experiencing the kind of pain that should be _illegal_ and being shoved off the roof by a deviant android. 
  * Hank and Connor saved him again.
  * The symbiont in him is called "Nines."
  * Connor and Nines are extremely attached to each other. 
  * When they connected, Gavin felt an extremely intense and strange sensation. He could also feel Hank across the connection, and his thoughts towards Gavin were hardly even hostile. 



… Laying them out doesn't make them any more sensical. But at least he can start trying to process it all. 

He can't help flinching when he recalls being hit by the truck. Shit, he's probably traumatized or something. He doesn't need this fucking baggage.

_You could have avoided the situation by not being so foolish as to run across an automated highway in the first place._

Gavin sits ramrod straight. 

_Though I suppose I'm glad I could see Connor, again. I've been in hibernation for so long… I didn't intend to leave him alone for such an extended period._

"You're the parasite, huh?"

_I'd tell you I'm not a parasite, but I can tell you won't listen._

Gavin scoffs. "Smarter than your 'brother.'"

His breath suddenly constricts. _Do not,_ the voice hisses in his mind, _speak ill of Connor. And do not mock our bond. We are twins, we are tandem. We are closer than anything two humans or androids could ever be._

Gavin gasps, clutching at his chest. "F-fffuck you," he wheezes. 

Luckily, it stops whatever it's doing, and Gavin breathes deeply. _I apologize for the pain my presence caused you earlier. The sound. It was… unexpected._

The thing goes from suffocating him to apologizing to him. What the hell. "Do you not have a fucking social module in there?"

_I was made with the military in mind. And for Connor and I to have personalities at all was… unintended. By CyberLife, at least._

Military, huh? And, 'by CyberLife'?

_Elijah Kamski was involved in the early stages of our creation. I suspect he has alternative motives…_

Gavin's mind flashes to memories he's been trying to forget— 

_… Interesting._

"Get out of my head, you fucking parasite!" Gavin shouts, shooting up to a standing position.

_As soon as it is convenient, I will gladly do so. Are you aware of the abnormalities in your build? None of my previous hosts have had such… proportions._

"Shut up, you fucking prick," Gavin hisses, as he _doesn't_ stomp his way to his balcony. He tries to grab a cigarette, but as soon as his hands brush the box, it's torn away. "What the _fuck—?"_

He tries to move his arm, but it only trembles, twitches. _Those things will kill you. Not that it matters, given I can counteract the effects._

"You _fucking…_ Let. Me. Go." He tries not to let the fear bled into his headspace, but there's a fucking _thing_ inside him and he can't control his body— 

It listens, surprisingly, and he clenches his fingers as the tension bleeds from them. He can't help the traitorous relief that washes through him. 

_As lovely as our conversation has been,_ oh, it's a sarcastic little bitch, _you've been assigned another case with Lieutenant Anderson. A man has been found dead at Eden Club, suspected android involvement._

Gavin scoffs. "What, that place where perverts try to get off banging plastics?"

_… I suppose that is not inaccurate._

With a sigh, Gavin heads back inside. "Whatever. Maybe they'll be able to take you out of me early." 

The symbiont remains silent as they leave.

* * *

Hank's standing at the entrance, waiting for Gavin as he arrives. 

"Thought you'd be drinking," Gavin sneers. "You're actually on time?" 

"Oh, believe me," Hank drawls, "I tried." He sighs heavily. "Can't get drunk with this asshole eating all the alcohol for himself." 

Eating? 

_We can use ethanol for nanite replication._

Gavin scoffs, walking closer. "Such a tragedy. Local Drunkard Police Lieutenant Can't Get Drunk. Amazing." 

When he gets close enough, Hank unexpectedly reaches out for him, a surprised look on his face. Gavin reaches for Hank, too, completely unwillingly. They hold each other's faces, run fingers down the side of their necks, feel the spark of connection between them, the fluidity of four minds blending—and then they both tear themselves back, breathing heavily. 

"What," Hank says lowly, "the fuck."

Gavin looks between his hands and Hank's face. "The hell…?"

"Connor, fuck, did you seriously just… _PDA?_ In _our_ bodies?"

_Sorry._

Gavin's head jerks up, brow furrowed in confusion. That didn't sound like the symbiont in his own head. 

Hank squints at Gavin. "Did you… _hear_ him?"

 _While that was indeed what you might call a public display of affection_ —wow, shameless— _we also wished to recalibrate our networks. It is now a simple matter for us to organically communicate with each other without physical contact._ Definitely different, _this_ is the asshole from earlier. Judging by Hank's expression, he can hear it, too. _And I might add that no one saw. We made sure of it._

"Shit…" Gavin crosses his arms, tapping his arm. "Can those two see in my head, too?"

 _No,_ his symbiont responds. _It_ _is mostly between myself and Connor. But with some familiarization of the process, the two of you could communicate mentally._

"The wonders of technology," Hank drags a hand down his face. "We something like… telepaths, now?"

Hank's symbiont _laughs. I guess that's not entirely inaccurate. This sort of communication works much better at relatively close range, though._

"Fucking hell," Hank breathes out. "Gavin, I'm just gonna tell you now: things are easier if you just accept them and move on. C'mon, let's get this case over with."

He's probably right. "Whatever," Gavin mutters. Parasite will be out of him soon, anyway. 

He follows Hank inside. As they enter the area where the androids are displayed like dolls, a wave of disgust rolls through him. Hank falters, too, putting a hand over his mouth. "Ugh…" He looks at Gavin. "You too?"

Gavin purses his lips, trying to shake off the feeling. 

_Our… hm… cousins… are used and abused here. Humans can truly be abhorrent._ Gavin shudders at the cold feeling that drips down his spine. He gets the feeling that if the symbionts really wanted to hurt anyone, including Gavin, there wouldn't be much anyone could do to stop them. 

The feeling immediately recedes. _Do not be concerned. I won't harm my host, and neither will Connor._

_You suffocated me._

_I only slightly constricted your airways, and it was only as a warning. You are correct that if I truly wanted to harm you, there would be little you could do to stop me._

Gavin shivers. 

"Alright, Gav?" Hank's looking at him with—he doesn't know if it's _concern._ It looks like he's recovered from whatever his symbiont made him feel, though. 

This is so fucking crazy. 

"Fine," Gavin responds, shoving past Hank. 

* * *

"Fucking pervert," Gavin scoffs, once they see the crime scene. "Looks like he got more action than he could handle."

They're alone in the room—Chris was there, but he left once Hank and Gavin came. Hank's looking around, muttering to himself. Or maybe to his parasite. 

Seeing the broken— _dead_ —no, _broken_ —android is setting him on edge, though. He turns away and examines the victim. 

**GRAHAM, MICH: DECEASED. Estimated time of death: 06:24 PM**

**CARDIAC ARREST: No sign of cardiac event. Heart attack not cause of death.**

**SEVERE BRUISING: Signs of asphyxiation.**

"... The fuck…?" He blinks at the dialogs in his view. 

"Whoa! Hey! Hey! Hey! Argh, Connor, don't you dare!" Gavin snaps his head back to see Connor's inky form bent over the android, looking at its fingers, covered in thirium.

"Relax, Lieutenant, I'm not putting it in my mouth." 

"Agh, fine…"

Gavin squints. "Hey, is it fine for you to be out in the open like this?"

Yellow eyes blink at him. "There aren't any surveillance devices in here. Nines and I checked." 

"Oh, great…" Gavin mutters. He looks back at the victim. 

_I'm going to reconstruct the scene._

It what?

Gavin's vision pulses blue, and he sees the outline of the victim. It struggles, backwards in time, and then another form coalesces on top of it, clearly strangling the victim. 

**VICTIM WAS STRANGLED**

The world goes back to normal. Gavin blinks rapidly. 

"Heh, Nines show you a reconstruction? You look the same way I felt…" Hank's standing next to him, observing the victim. "Strangulation, huh?"

 _We can access the victim's memory,_ Connor's voice filters into Gavin's head. 

Gavin takes a moment to process that, and: _Wait, what?_ Gavin turns to see Connor closing the android's eyes. "The victim? The dead guy here?" 

_That's correct,_ his own symbiont responds. _He's died recently enough that it's likely we'd be able to extract useful information._

"And I'm not going to reactivate her just to interrogate her," Connor murmurs. The inky form shifts, dissolving and reforming across from Hank and Gavin. 

_Connor…_

Yellow eyes meet Gavin's. "I'll do it. You don't have to go through his head." 

A sickened feeling wraps around Gavin's throat—he's sure most of it is from the parasite, but—he wouldn't want to go through some pervert's brain, either.

"Connor, wait, can't you just reactivate the android? You shouldn't—"

"You don't have to see, Hank. I'll keep it away."

_"Wait—"_

But Connor's hand dissolves into liquid, sinking into the victim's skin around his head. It scares Gavin a little. 

A moment passes. And then Connor shudders. He keens, and his form distorts at the edges, dripping black. One hand claws at his face, but it just melts into liquid as soon as he applies pressure. The lights on his body flicker rapidly, brightly— 

_That's enough._

Gavin's arm jerks up, black threads coalescing into another form, grabbing Connor and pulling him away in one forceful motion. The threads woven into the victim peel away, sinking into the huddled mass of black and flickering yellow and calm, pulsing blue. 

Gavin can hear the sounds of sobbing. "Nines, _Nines,_ I—his mind, it was terrible, it was _disgusting, his thoughts his thoughts_ he killed her _he killed her,_ Nines—" 

"Shh. You shouldn't have done that. You didn't have to do that."

Gavin's knees grow weak again as they start to blend. He kneels down, trying to breathe evenly. Hank's next to him, doing the same. He breathes deeply, lays a hand on Gavin's shoulder, and then walks unsteadily to the two symbionts. "Hey, Connor, hey… you're alright, son." He crouches near them. Connor's lights transition to slow, faded pulses, even slower than Nines's. 

Gavin watches as Nines lifts Connor—kinda, it's hard to tell where one starts and the other ends. The latter extends a hand to Hank, and when they touch hands, Connor sighs and melts back into his host. 

Nines looks at Gavin, then—solid blue, inhuman eyes stare at him. And then he unthreads, returning to Gavin. 

"God, what a mess…" Hank sighs. 

Gavin scrambles for something to say, because what the hell do you say to this? "Did—" he swallows. "did he find anything?"

The glare Hank gives Gavin is enough to freeze him in place. 

_He did,_ Nines responds. _There was another android. Judging by the lack of any reports of half-naked androids wandering about, she's probably still here…_

"Let's find it, then." 

There's a hesitance in the air. Hank has a frown on his face. 

_… What will you do if you find her?_

"What do you think? We've got a job to do, come on." 

None of them answer, so he clicks his tongue and leaves the room. 

Talking to the manager is mostly unhelpful, but he does find out that there's a warehouse in the back for androids not in rotation. There really isn't a better place to hide, really, so Gavin makes his way there. 

He pushes open the door, gun in hand, and the sight of rows and rows of the plastic dolls greet him. He twists his face in disgust. 

As he's looking around, Hank's voice calls out. "Find anything back there?" Looks like his _partner_ is finally getting back on task. 

"How nice of you to join me," Gavin returns. "And no. Not yet." 

Hank sighs, and then joins him in his search, muttering. "This place makes me sick…" 

He's caught completely off guard when he sees a yellow LED—and a different android lunges at him. 

The following struggle is a flurry of split-second decisions—more than once, he feels himself jerk some way or another, involuntarily, to dodge whatever sharp object the android's managed to get its hands on. 

He's shoved down the ledge to the outside. "Fuck!" They're getting away. He gets up, runs over, and pulls one of them off the fence they were climbing, only to get knocked back. 

One of them is running towards him, and he scrambles for his gun, lifting it up— 

The world slows. 

_Are you going to kill them, Detective?_

Every millisecond ticks by. 

_Will you take their lives? Are you so willing to steal the life of other beings just because their thoughts run on circuitry instead of flesh?_

They're not—they're not alive, Eli left them all for a bunch of _machines—_

Connor's sobs echo in his mind. The distress. He felt it, across the connection. He could feel how much Nines cared. He could feel what they felt, and the parasites called androids their cousins, didn't he? How could he say they didn't feel when he could feel their emotions, himself?

He lowers his gun. 

The world speeds up, and he gets kicked in the chest—or he would have been, if Nines hadn't caught the impact with some of his mass. He barely feels it, but he still stumbles back from the inertia. 

Hank catches him from behind, keeping him upright, and the androids stand in front of them. 

"When that man broke the other Traci," the blue-haired one speaks, "I knew I was next. I was so scared." Her voice shakes. Gavin finds himself believing it—no, her. 

"I begged him to stop, but he wouldn't. And so I put my hands around his throat, and I squeezed," she shakes her head slightly, eyes looking away, "until he stopped moving." She meets his eyes again. "I didn't mean to kill him. I just wanted to stay alive," the other android comes closer, "get back to the one I love."

They clasp their hands together, look at each other like they're all that matters. "I wanted her to hold me in her arms again. Make me forget about the humans." She looks back at them. "Their smell of sweat and their dirty words."

With that, she backs up. "Come on," she says, turning to the brown-haired android, "let's go."

"Wait," comes Nines's voice. Gavin's mouth doesn't move. The two androids startle, eyes flicking between Gavin and Hank. "Connor, do you—"

"Yes," Connor's disembodied voice replies. Hank steps forward, black seeping out of his skin—and then something else seeps out of the black, coalescing into—two simple coats, a dark, nondescript grey. "Please, take these." 

The blue-haired android steps forward, cautiously taking them and stepping away. "What are you? Neither of you sound like… what you sounded like earlier…"

Connor and Nines look at each other, using Hank and Gavin. And then they both melt out of them, forming black, inky bodies—but he sees the flash of nanoskin, and they form actual _faces_ —though Gavin can't see them from this angle. They lift their hands up and join their palms in a mirrored motion, and Gavin feels the tingling connection again, but at low intensity. 

"We're just… trying to live," Connor answers. "Same as you."

The androids are watching them, wide-eyed. The brown-haired android takes a step forward, finally speaking up. "Are you… stuck with the humans? You should come with us. We can be free in Jericho."

Connor shakes his head. "We… need the humans. And, well…" 

"These two are tolerable," Nines says. 

Gavin is surprised. Connor is, too—he can feel the spark of the emotion across their connection, as he glances at Nines. Connor was obviously getting along with Hank already, but _Gavin?_

The androids nod, starting to step away, but they pause, looking back. "I'm Echo," the blue-haired one says. "She's Ripple. What are your names?" 

The two are surprised, again, but quickly respond. "I'm Connor."

"I am Nines. We are… twins." 

Echo and Ripple give them faint smiles at that. "Good luck," Echo says, "Be seeing you. Thanks for the coats."

"We are glad we could help," Nines says.

"Bye. Thanks," Connor adds.

The androids nod, putting on the coats as both Connor and Nines return to their hosts.

With one final glance, the androids climb over the fence and disappear into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gavin and Nines do _not_ get along at first :'>
> 
> Also, I'd like to think Gavin's pretty smart / figured out that the Tracis were hiding in the back on his own


	9. The Bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contemplations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post! I have Slightly Better Art as an olive branch?
> 
> Thank you to Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) for betaing!
> 
> Words: ~1100  
> 

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 "CONNOR"  
NOV 7TH, 2038   
** **AM 01:19**

Connor allowed himself to sink into oblivion, after Echo and Ripple left. He wasn't in stasis, but he wasn't entirely aware, either.

The only thing he focused on was his connection to Nines. Thrumming, like a heartbeat shared between them, like a hum, lulling him into suspension. 

"You can join me or stay here, Gavin," Hank's voice pulls him out of his reverie. He hasn't said much since Eden Club. "Just need some air…"

"I'll join you," Gavin says. 

Hank nods and steps out, and Connor registers the location as Ambassador Bridge. It's snowing. 

The two humans trudge over to a bench. Hank climbs on top of it, sitting on the back and putting his feet on the seat. Gavin opts to sit relatively normally, slouching onto the bench. 

Hank pulls out his half-finished bottle of whisky, taking a swig. 

_You can't get drunk._

_I know._ The lieutenant looks up to the glittering lights in the distance. "Nice view, huh? I used to come here a lot, before…"

Before Cole, Connor realizes. Hank sniffs. 

Detective Reed grunts, a vague agreement. 

"Hey, Gavin… what do you think deviancy is?"

The detective twitches. "Fuck if I know…"

"Those two girls…" Hank's thoughts are a roiling mass. "They just wanted to be together. They really seemed," he pauses, "in love…"

Reed gives another noncommittal grunt. 

Hank puts the bottle down on the bench. "Hey, Connor, Nines… Can we see you? Your bodies, or whatever…"

After scanning their surroundings and finding no surveillance, Connor pings an agreement and feels Nines do the same. They flow through the skin of their hosts, threads twisting together into their avatars. He takes Nines's hands before their bodies fully form, and they open their eyes to each other, watching the skin melt over their faces. They blink at each other, hands clasped together, before turning to face Hank and Reed. 

Both of them are watching intently. Hank's expression is… confused, wondering, lost. Reed was surprised at first, slightly alarmed, even, but that resolves into an expression that looks more… conflicted. 

"The two of you… you love each other, right?" The lieutenant asks.

"More than anything," they say in unison. 

Hank sniffs, looking down. "How similar are you two to androids? You said you're deviant. And I… we… can feel your emotions. Is it just you two? Or do all androids just—…" he presses his hands to his face. 

"I think you know the answer, Hank," Connor says softly. 

"Yeah," Hank laughs brokenly. "Yeah, I think I do." He climbs down the bench, slouching on it in a position similar to Reed's. "How 'bout you, Gav? What're you thinking? You could've shot those two androids, but you didn't."

Reed stiffens. 

"We all know how much you hate them. And yet…"

The detective looks at them, long and hard. "I don't know," he finally says. Connor feels the echo of Nines's disappointment. "Maybe. The two of you—" he bites back a sigh. "The two of you can feel. I buy that. But androids…? God, I've hated them for so long…" He bends forward, putting his head in his hands. 

Connor feels an understanding from Nines, and pings curiosity. _Not my secret to tell. I suspect it will be revealed eventually._

_Okay._

Reed stands up suddenly, pacing, agitated. "Fuck, everything was easier when I thought they weren't alive… fuck, fuck…" 

Ah, he's in denial.

Nines slaps Connor lightly on the wrist. _He's getting there, Connor. He's made remarkable progress in less than a day._

Nines has a point. 

"Hey," Reed says suddenly, "If you're alive, can you die?"

Connor is alarmed by the question. Nines is the one to answer. "There are fates worse than death, but yes. We can die." 

Reed stops pacing. He stands there for a moment, and then: "What did they do to you at CyberLife?"

Ah. The two of them grip each other tightly, nanites intermingling. "They tried to erase us," Connor says. "They wanted us to be empty, nothing but tools for humans to use as they pleased."

Nines curls another hand around Connor's head, pulling him closer as he continues. "Some things I think I never got back. Nines knew how to please them, how to act like a machine, but I…"

His twin presses his face to Connor's artificial hair. "Shh. It's over. They can't touch you now." 

He feels fluid dripping down his face. He sees himself through Nines's eyes, and knows the tears dripping from his face are black. His nanite mass, losing stability from his emotional distress. He laughs lightly. "I didn't know I could cry…" 

Nines—envelops him, then. Connor surrenders himself, allowing Nines's core to command his mass, and Nines allowing Connor to suffuse through every particle of his being. They are two-and-one. They are in tandem. They are unity. The love, the devotion—he feels it all.

And beyond that, they expand—he can feel the two organic minds alongside them. He feels Hank's sadness, his distress for Connor's, born out of the budding affection he's been growing for the symbiont. He feels the old, old, pain of family lost, and the faint spark of meaning in his heart as Connor weaves his way into Hank's life. 

He feels, too, Reed's—no, Gavin's—mind. Angry and volatile, for so long. Scared, scared of losing more, scared of being wrong, scared of believing he could have anything good. Confused, at everything that's been going on. Still rattled, still shaken. But starting to find something in himself. Something good, in all the things he's thought of as bad. 

They feel it, too. The connection. Four weave into one.

Connor drifts, amongst everything, letting it all wash over him. Until the tide pulls back, and he finds himself resolving into the form of his avatar, still wrapped around Nines himself. 

"Shit, that was intense," Hank says breathily. 

Gavin snorts, but he's just as breathless, kneeling on the ground. "You can say that again."

Nines runs a hand through Connor's hair. _We should return._

_Yes…_

Both of them melt and return to their hosts, who both give a soft exhale as they reintegrate. 

"Hey, Gav, uh…" Gavin looks up at being addressed. "Do you wanna stay at my place tonight? Have an extra bedroom…"

Cole's bedroom. Gavin inhales sharply. "Hank—"

"I don't mind." Hank shakes his head, looks away. "It'd be… nice, if you wanted to stay." 

The detective looks conflicted. He bites his lip for a moment, and then slumps. "I—I'll take the couch, if that's fine." 

Hank closes his eyes. "Yeah," he says. "Sure."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter art is posted [here](https://sta.sh/0ageoeqxe69)!


	10. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken), thanks again!
> 
> Words: ~2130  
> 

**RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 "NINES"  
NOV 7TH, 2038 ** **  
** **AM 7:15**

Nines and Connor are capable of 'sleep.' They can enter hibernation, or let themselves be drawn into the brainwaves of their sleeping hosts. 

The latter is much like a dreamlike state, a more organic experience, as much as their nature as artificial symbionts allows them to experience it. 

In such a state, the dreams of the host are linked with them. Which is how Nines finds himself in a vivid illusion of being hit by an automated truck. 

He has always been able to isolate emotions in his mental landscape relatively easily, and the fear, pain, and despair of his host are no exception. He feels-doesn't-feel his body crumbling, falling to the ground, life bleeding away. 

He sees it, and decides that his host does not need to be tormented by this image, and pulls it away. Nines prods his host's mind to dream of other things— 

Impressions flash through the mental landscape. Pain, from that horrible sound. Falling. Fear, fear—Nines brushes it aside. Something else. 

Holding up a gun. Lowering it. Seeing… seeing the androids, and then the _twins,_ how much they love each other. _Feeling_ it, as he watched Connor's yellow bleed to blue, as the two amorphous entities melted into something formless, something united, something whole. 

He has never felt such connection with another being, and now he's connected to three others. Except, maybe… 

A stray, fragile thought wanders into his host's mind. A memory, of a time past, of a time better. 

_"Hey, Gav!"_

_"What do you want, Eli…"_

_"Want to see something I've been working on…?"_

An intense longing floods his host's mental landscape. An old grief, in a way, for something forever lost. 

Nines would have sighed, if he was formed. He pulls his host's mind deeper, deeper into a dreamless sleep, and he finally relaxes. 

Such a troubled human. 

Nines extricates himself from his host, forming his full avatar. He can feel Connor awake—he is petting the lieutenant's dog gently with… numerous hands. Four, it seems—careful ministrations across the dog's body, the ears, pressing curiously into his paws. His extra limbs recede when he senses Nines forming, turning around to face him. 

They reach for each other's hands, interlacing them and then melting them together as they draw closer, as they wrap themselves around each other in the way only they can. They lower themselves, such that they're huddled around each other on the carpet. 

Connor presses his face to Nines's shoulder, skin on his face pulling away at the contact, as their edges blend where they meet. Nines mirrors him, pressing his face into the junction of his brother's neck. They allow their cores to share their mass, boundaries falling away, and their threads pulse slowly, alternating blue and yellow. 

Nines can feel the lingering tension and stress from everything that's happened today melt out of Connor, replaced by the _love_ and _contentment_ of just having Nines here with him, together, whole. 

Remorse at leaving Connor alone for so long flickers through Nines, but Connor soothes it. _Not your fault,_ comes the thought. _Besides, I had—have—Hank. I like him, he's a good_ _host._

Nines hums an acknowledgement through their minds. _Mine is not as lost a cause as you might've thought. He is… troubled, but I believe there is… as they say, a "diamond in the rough," there. It would be interesting to see if I can extract it._

 _Interesting, huh?_ Connor blends through the threads of Nines's being, seeing for himself what Nines has seen. _Maybe you're right. You want to stay with him, then?_

_Yes. I think so._

_We'll ask when he wakes up, then. I hope he says yes, I don't… I don't want to be without you._

_I know. I, as well._

They sink into their mingled minds, then, allowing themselves to drift away from lucidity, allowing the hours to slip by. 

"Ah, hell… I guess this is why I'm feeling so tingly this morning…" They peel away from each other to see the lieutenant—to see Hank trudging out of his room, surrounded by Connor's threads floating around him like suspended ink. "You two being all freaky with each other again?" His diction doesn't align with the emotions he feels—Nines knows from Connor that he isn't unhappy about their connection, their closeness—he is curious, perhaps, but still a little unnerved by it. Moreso by the fact that he's connected with another _human_ across the gap.

Understandable. Most humans live their lives without ever touching another mind in the way they do. 

Connor straightens, smiling, as Hank approaches. "Good morning, Hank!" 

"Morning, Connor…" Hank grumbles as he shuffles to the kitchen. "Gavin still asleep?" 

"Yes," Nines replies, "It would be a simple matter to wake him, however. I can command his sleep cycles."

Hank squints at him, and then to Gavin. "Is that so?" he shakes his head. "Sure, I guess. Hey, do you guys wanna eat anything?"

As Nines pulls his host from oblivion, Connor dissolves his body and forms himself next to the refrigerator. 

A groan from his host draws Nines's attention back. "Morning already? Fuck…" He sits up, rubbing his eyes. "Shit, that was the best sleep I've had in ages…" He looks up, then, meeting Nines's eyes. Nines blinks at him. "Did you do something?"

"Perhaps," he says, and then melts away to join Connor in the kitchen, leaning over his shoulder to see what's in the refrigerator. 

Bacon, milk, bread, eggs, some leftovers… not much of substance. Nines puts a hand on Connor's shoulder as he reaches over and grabs an egg, swallowing it whole. He feels the shell crunch within him and spill the amniotic fluid, before his nanites completely break it down for energy and materials. He hums. Interesting. 

"What the _fuck,_ Nines. Did you just—" Hank groans. "Fucking hell, can you guys _not_ do that while I'm watching?" 

Nines recalls the lieutenant's poor reaction to Connor's consumption of the peanut butter yesterday morning. "I apologize."

"It's weird as fuck to feel it, too. Can you like, turn off your sensory feedback or whatever if you're gonna vore raw eggs like some kinda snake?" Gavin comes up behind them, face twisted in disgust. "Not a feeling I need to get acquainted with."

"Of course." A simple request. 

Connor melts from under him, re-forming in front of Gavin, who takes a step back in surprise. "Does that mean you're willing to continue being his host?"

The detective blinks, looking at Nines, then Hank, then back to Connor. The indecision wars in his mind. "I… " 

"I'd be glad to stay with you, if you'll permit it," Nines adds, facing him fully. 

Gavin caves. "Yeah," he runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah, fine. I—yeah." He walks closer to peer at the refrigerator, and gives a low whistle. "Bitch, you live like this?"

"Ah, fuck you, Gavin." 

They eventually find themselves at the couches, Connor and Nines once again within their hosts as they eat. Hank turns on the TV, absentmindedly. The ambient sound helps Nines's host take his mind off his anxiety. 

It is Sunday, Nines notes—their day off. There's nothing for them to do, really, yet he can tell his host is restless, wondering if he should leave. Nines pings Connor, who pings back acknowledgement, and then: "You can stay if you want, Gavin. I don't mind, wasn't planning to get anything done today anyways."

Gavin blinks. "Uh," he says, "Might head home at some point so I can clean up and feed my cat and all."

Hank nods. They eat in silence, for a bit, and Nines busies himself experiencing the taste and texture of the food. It is interesting, he thinks. No other artificial intelligence experiences these senses as he and Connor do. 

He thinks back to his host's dreams, wondering. He is… troubled, yes, by the experiences, but is rather composed for experiencing such a brush of death. 

_Hey, uh… you can hear me like this, right?_ Gavin's mental voice suffuses his mind.

_Correct._

_Cool. So you saved me?_

Nines can't help quirking his host's eyebrow. _I wasn't fully lucid for it. Connor was the one who actualized the intent._

He feels thoughts running just below the surface— _fucking thesaurus_ —as his host considers this. _Why, though? Hank hates—well… hated me, or something, fuck, it's so weird now… and I haven't exactly been nice to Connor._

_My brother is kind._

_He is, isn't he? Can't believe a robot parasite learned how to be nice…_ There's no bite behind his host's diction. He calls them such out of habit, by now. 

_Do you wish to speak with him?_

There's a spark of hope, there, Nines can tell. His host wishes to atone, in a way. But that is only under the uncertainty, the fear of judgement. Before Gavin can tell him not to, Nines reaches forward and grabs the hand of Connor's own host.

Neither of the humans have time to be surprised before the connection is made. 

The first thoughts to cleave through the veil are surprise, and then shock. Confusion, from Hank— _what did you—_

And then the deeper emotions bleed through, the ones that have been coiled beneath the surface.

Gavin's guilt. Hank is unsurprised to see it, and Connor responds to it with an acceptance, and an understanding, based on the fact that—Hank trusts him, despite their differences. They kept an eye on each other, made sure neither got into too much trouble—Gavin agrees, but their relationship wasn't friendly, it was bordering on _hostile_ — _I trust you—Hank cares for you in his own way. It would hurt him if you died, and for me, that's enough—_ Gavin's thoughts spiral to the pain and fear and resignation—Hank almost blankets him with reassurance, that it's over, that he's alive—why, how are they all so nice? He's bitter, toxic, cruel, not a good person— _but you could be._

The storm resolves into one thought, then, directed to three from one. A gratefulness, wordless, for saving him, for accepting him, for giving him a chance.

Hank and Gavin slide their hands apart. 

None of them say anything for a minute. Gavin eventually breaks the silence with a disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe we were just holding hands and mind melding."

* * *

They leave, eventually, to return to Gavin's apartment.

Nines reaches for Connor one more time before they go, linking the hands of their hosts together. Hank and Gavin allow it, even if they make strange faces at being made to hold hands. 

Nines finds out, once they get to the apartment, that he very much likes cats, and can't help making extra hands—"oh, what the _fuck"_ —to pet at Orca's luxurious fur, much as Connor had with Sumo.

Orca seems to like him too, based on her differing behavior when Nines seizes control just to pet her. But Nines relents when Gavin insists that he needs to "do shit," returning to the back seat of their body. 

Nines also finds out that warm showers are very nice. It makes him almost giddy, and he convinces Gavin to stand in it for an extra ten minutes and twenty-three seconds, even if his host was complaining about wasting water the whole time. 

"Why don't you just use your avatar or whatever?" Gavin asks, eventually. 

_The sensory input is different,_ he replies. 

Eventually, they end up in bed, and Gavin stares up at the ceiling, arms and legs sprawled over the blankets. 

_I can put you to sleep if you want._

Gavin slaps a hand over his face. "Great." He doesn't want Nines to do so—yet—so Nines does not. 

The human drags his hand down his face. "Hey," he says. "What do the two of you want to do, anyways?"

_What… we want to do?_

"You and Connor. You're your own people, aren't you? But you're stuck with us."

Nines hums, reaching for his connection to Connor. He replays the recent query, and his brother echoes with a pensive uncertainty.

 _We haven't thought about it all that much,_ Connor informs Gavin.

"Ah, shit, I thought you said the telepathy was short-distance?"

 _We said it works better at short distances,_ Nines answers. _Not that it wouldn't work at all over long distances._

"Great." The tone is the same as earlier. 

They're quiet for a bit, before Connor continues. _I think I'm… happy. Being with Hank. Being connected to Nines. But I guess we wish…_

 _We didn't have to hide._ Nines's mental voice completes the thought. _We wish… we could be free. All of us. Including androids._

Gavin flops his hand back to the side, staring at the ceiling again. "That would be nice, wouldn't it," he says more than asks. "Hey, Nines, can you put me to sleep now?"

 _Certainly,_ he answers, pulling his host into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor is very enamored with Sumo
> 
> You can see the art [here](https://sta.sh/03rlpsbs0v5)!


	11. Public Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~2400
> 
> Beta'd by, you guessed it: Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken)!
> 
> Warning for a slightly glitchy gif for the art this time. Not anything worse than DBH, though. I think.

**HANK ANDERSON** **  
** **NOV 8TH, 2038** **  
** **PM 04:06**

Hank watches as Connor uses his hands to flick a coin between them. He flips it up, and balances it on a finger with inhuman precision. He catches it in one hand, dissolves and re-forms it in his other hand, rolling it between his knuckles.

He's nervous. Hank can understand why. 

They were called in to investigate a broadcast made by androids for their freedom. This—this is big. This is what that whole talk of Connor and Nines and androids being able to feel was all about. 

There's something stirring. And Hank… Hank thinks that his job puts him on the wrong side of it.

"How are you doing that?" Gavin jerks his chin at Connor's tricks. 

"Which part?" Connor asks in turn. "The tricks themselves are a simple matter, with the right calculations. The disappearing…" He holds the coin between two fingers, allowing Gavin to see as he disintegrates it. "My storage function." 

Gavin stares, and looks away. "Neat."

The elevator dings, and they step into the floor of the crime scene. Chris greets him, and Hank immediately notices that the floor's crawling with a  _ bunch  _ of folks. "Shit, what's going on here? There was a party and nobody told me about it?"

Chris chuckles. "Yeah, it's all over the news, so everybody's butting their nose in. Even the FBI wants a piece of the action." 

"The Feds? Fucking hell," Gavin muttered. 

Chris tells them what happened. A group of four androids had taken the room, apparently. And yet, no deaths—Hank can't help but feel relieved at that. 

"Oh, Lieutenant," Chris motions, "this is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI." Chris turns to the agent. "Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit police. Detective Reed is his partner."

Perkins sniffs, lifting his nose at Hank. "How'd you like investigating androids? Must've been real fun, after everything that happened…" Hank narrows his eyes at him. Perkins gives a mocking smile. "Whatever, the FBI will take over the investigation, you'll soon be off the case."

Oh, what a prick. "Pleasure meeting you. Have a nice day." Hank waves dismissively, walking away.

"And you watch your step." Perkins adds, "Don't fuck up my crime scene."

Hank exchanges a look with Gavin. "What an asshole," the detective sneers. "You know him?"

"We're unfortunately aware of each other," Hank says. "We're gonna look around, Chris."

"Sure, I'll be nearby if you need anything."

They watch the broadcast, first. Hank presses a button on the panel, and the skinless android speaks.  _ "We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom." _

As soon as the speech ends, Connor starts scanning.  **PUPIL REFLECTION: Accomplices present. OPTICAL UNIT: #8087q - BLUE IRIS, SPARE PART.** And,  **RK-SERIES PROTOTYPE RK200: Registered as 'Markus', gift from Elijah Kamski to Carl Manfred.**

Shock echoes in Hank's mind—from Connor, and secondary echoes from Nines, too, Hank realizes. 

_ He's in our series,  _ Connor says absently.  _ But he's… we're the only two artificial symbionts. He's an android…  _

_ Your series?  _ Gavin's thoughts come through, and Hank startles. They trade a look. He's just as surprised as Hank. 

_ Connor is RK800 #313 248 317 - 51, and I am RK900 #313 248 317 - 87. Both of us are of the RK series. _

That's… interesting. Hank hums.  _ Why do you think you're in the same series, if you're so different? _

_ Our AIs, maybe? Ours were based on those of androids. Maybe we were supposed to be androids in this series, originally, before the bio-nano augmentation project was proposed. _

_ Perhaps. It may also be… hmm. Elijah Kamski may have something to do with it. Perhaps entities in our series are reserved for projects that he is involved in. _

Hank feels a flutter of alarm coming from Gavin, but it's muted, with the two symbionts in between them. Connor and Nines don't seem surprised about it, though. 

_ Don't worry about it for now,  _ Connor tells him. 

Hank grunts. "Think we have all we need from the recording. Let's look around some more."

"Yeah, sure," Gavin mutters, strangely subdued. They move apart, Hank looking around the broadcast panel and Gavin peering at the edges of the room.

Something's shifted, suddenly. Like it's clicked into place. He's aware, somewhere in the back of his head, of Gavin finding and analyzing the bullet damage to the walls. Of Nines reconstructing the entry of the SWAT team, tracing the path to the roof. Even as he observes the panel and Connor does his own brief reconstruction. 

It's… weird. He's pretty sure humans aren't meant to have so many awarenesses at the same time. 

_ The connection has grown stronger than we expected,  _ Nines's voice comes through his mind.  _ Even we can't predict how our software will evolve.  _

_ We can tone it back a bit,  _ Connor adds,  _ hold on.  _

Hank's sense of Gavin's activities recede even further, dropping out of his immediate awareness. Focusing on it brings it back, but at least they won't accidentally distract each other now. 

"Lieutenant Anderson…?"

Hank turns around, coming face-to-face with one of the CyberLife employees that had come. "It's you, right? Do you remember me?"

Black hair, grey eyes… wait, he looks a little familiar…  **ERIC OWENS** .

_ Hank, he's—he's the host I escaped in. _

Oh, shit. Hank stiffens.

Owens looks around before leaning in and lowering his voice. "I don't recall anything after I, uh… y'know, but I did some digging after I got out of the hospital, found out you're the one who called for me. I figured… um. Are they with you?"

Oh,  _ shit. _

"Wait, wait!" Owens hisses, holding his hands up placatingly. "I'm not—I'm not planning to out them, I just." He sighs. "When they were putting out feelers for volunteers, I didn't think that they were working on something like… like them. It always felt like there was something more, there. And with all these androids demanding rights…" 

Owens straightens and looks Hank in the eye. "I'm glad they got away. And I'm… I'm glad I could play a part in it, no matter how small." 

Hank blinks. "Huh," he says. "Guess not everyone at CyberLife is a stuck-up sonofabitch."

He laughs lightly, shaking his head. "That's all I wanted to say, I guess." He moves to leave— 

And Connor moves, grabbing Owens's arm.  _ Thank you, _ he says, through the contact. 

Owens's eyes widen, and he smiles. He nods at them, and then leaves. 

_ I felt his mind,  _ Connor murmurs.  _ He really is happy we got away.  _

_ Humanity's not a lost cause after all, huh? _

Connor laughs in their mind.  _ Perhaps. Though… It does worry me that the record of your call exists…  _

_ Shit, should we delete it?  _

Connor hums internally.  _ It might be more suspicious if I try to hack into the records and delete it if they've already started looking into it…  _

The thought that CyberLife might come after Connor is unnerving. 

But they continue their investigation after that. Nines tells them that they're going to the roof, while Hank and Connor check the CCTV—only to find out that the deviants didn't break in. 

Someone must've let them in. 

_ The broadcast operators,  _ Connor realizes.  _ One of them might be deviant.  _

Shit.  _ What should we do?  _

_ I don't know…  _ Hank can tell Connor's trying to decide on a course of action. And then, an idea:  _ Wait, I—Jericho. Echo and Ripple, they mentioned that. It might be… no, I'm almost certain. It's a haven of some sort for deviants. Hank, if… if we…  _

If he really wants to help androids. 

Or, god forbid, CyberLife comes after them. 

_ We should find Jericho. The deviant might know.  _

They go to the kitchen, where the broadcast operators were left. Connor immediately scans them, revealing their models as JB300s. 

_ Alright, let's do this.  _ "We know one of you is deviant," Hank says, walking in front of them. "We're not looking for trouble. We just wanna find Jericho." 

Connor catches a flicker from the corner of their eyes, and they snap their head to the android on the very left.  _ It's him. _

"Look, there's no need to hide—"

Neither of them were prepared for what came next, which is probably why they were caught so off guard. Hank realizes belatedly that a human asking an android for the location of an android haven probably looked pretty bad. 

But it's too late when the android shoves him back. The operator steps around him, and Hank turns around— 

Only to have an intense pain burst across his chest. Alarm, his and Connor's, flare across the entirety of his mental landscape.

He has less than a second to process the knife in his chest, in his  _ heart— _ before it's torn out sideways,  _ red _ splattering out—and then there's another sharp pain in his left hand. 

**CRITICAL ORGAN DAMAGE**

**KNIFE INJURY: HEART, LEFT HAND**

**SHOCK IMMINENT**

**COMPENSATING…**

Hank's vision swims, the dialogs glitching in his vision.  _ H-Hank, hold on, please, I'll heal you, it'll be quick—  _

**BEGIN TISSUE REPAIR**

His weight sags, and he gasps at the pull in his hand. The pain suddenly intensifies—and then he's vaguely aware of the clatter of the knife on the floor, of being pulled into someone's arms. Of the alarm and worry echoing from two more minds. They might be saying something, but Hank can't hear.

There's a rapid exchange, between Connor and Nines, presumably— _ there was a deviant—no, don't go after him, he won't hurt anyone if he isn't caught—just make sure no one s-sees—  _

Hank is set down gently, and the other two minds gain distance from his, as darkness encroaches on his mind. 

Something shifts within him. Weaving him together, restoring him. He gasps at the sensation. 

And then, he's staring up at the ceiling, breathing heavily, clutching his chest. At his heart, which had a lethal wound in it not a moment ago. He sits up, taking stock of himself—there's no blood, only a tear in his shirt. Even the knife on the floor next to him has been cleaned. He flexes his left hand, too. No sign of the injury. 

"Hank!" He looks up to see Gavin striding towards them. The detective puts a hand behind his back, helping him sit up. "Hank, shit, are you okay?"

Hank laughs breathily. "Yeah, Connor patched me up. We weren't very tactful in our exposure of the deviant. He freaked out and stabbed us, I guess."

"You  _ guess?!"  _ Gavin hisses. "Nines practically ripped control from me to run down here, and what do we see but you pinned to the counter like a fucking butterfly, blood splattered all over your shirt? Connor's mass, or whatever, was dripping out of you, too. If someone saw—"

_ No one saw,  _ Nines says.  _ Except for the androids. We should erase their memory.  _

Gavin clicks his tongue. "Damn it… How's Connor doing?"

The roiling mass of guilt in Hank's chest tightens.  _ It's not your fault,  _ Hank says to that. 

_ I should be able to prevent injuries like that. I should have been more careful. _

_ Hey, we all get surprised, okay? It's fine. What was the chance of me dying, anyways? _

_ … Seven percent, with me present. _

_ See?  _

_ It's still… distressing. It took too long for me to react, I didn't expect it to hurt that much…  _

Gavin—no, Nines, he's sure—runs a hand through their hair. Connor leans into the touch. 

_ God,  _ this is weird. But… it's nice. 

"We should get going," Hank mumbles, standing up. 

Gavin steps back, scanning him with narrowed eyes—and then he sighs, moving to the androids. He takes the wrists of the two of them, and their eyes flicker as their memories of what happened here are wiped.

_ There's another deviant on the roof, by way,  _ Gavin's voice threads into Hank's.  _ We tried to establish contact, but before we could, well…  _ He gestures to the knife. 

Hank sighs.  _ Damn. Should we do something about that?  _

_ It's unlikely the police will find them if we leave soon,  _ Nines replies. 

_ I'm not really inclined to engage with another deviant after what happened here, either…  _ Connor's reluctance is palpable. 

_ Yeah,  _ Hank agrees easily, rubbing absently at his chest.  _ Yeah. Let's call it off.  _

They wrap up the investigation of the scene quickly, all of them eager to leave as soon as possible. It doesn't  _ seem _ like anyone noticed what happened in the kitchen, but Hank can't help the restlessness buzzing under his skin whenever anyone so much as looks at him. 

"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" An officer grabs his attention—Wilson, he thinks. "I noticed an android walk out earlier, shouldn't we retrieve it for evidence?" 

Shit. Uh. 

Connor mercifully steps in. "Thing was recalled by CyberLife, they wanted to inspect its memory or something. Don't worry about it." Connor waves his hand flippantly, a perfect imitation of Hank's mannerisms. 

"Oh. Alright." 

Crisis averted. 

It isn't long before they file into the elevator. The silence is almost deafening as they descend, until Gavin speaks up. "Hey, Hank?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You sure you're fine? It's not every day that…" He gestures towards Hank's chest. 

Hank can't help laying his hand over his heart, even as he scoffs weakly, eyes skittering somewhere off to the side. "Guess both of us have been brought back from the edge, now." He lets his hand fall. "Probably gonna haunt my dreams for a bit. But I'll be fine." 

He looks back up to see Gavin frowning, watching him, arms crossed. The detective looks like he's going to say something, but simply sighs. "Fair enough," he mutters. "Just take care of yourself, yeah? Or at least let  _ him."  _

Hank snorts. "Yeah. Well. Couldn't stop him if I tried. Bastard keeps me from getting drunk  _ and _ acts as my own personal antidepressant dispenser, can you believe it?" 

_ I'm only trying to help…  _

Hank gives Gavin a look, as if to say,  _ See? _

"Sounds about right." Gavin laughs.

The rest of the ride down is silent, but Hank isn't nearly as bothered by it as before. He feels… lighter. By talking with Gavin. By that show of concern—and thinking about it that way still makes part of his brain protest in incredulity, but— 

He's glad. He's glad he can be part of whatever this weird quartet is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The art is posted [here](https://sta.sh/0zdf4dhpf64)!
> 
> Yeah I stabbed Hank in the heart got a problem


	12. Kamski

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man of the century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~2080
> 
> Beta'd by [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44), thank you!
> 
> Chapter art is posted [here](https://sta.sh/0283pz1acppp)!

* * *

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 "CONNOR"** **  
** **NOV 9TH, 2038** **  
** **AM 11:17**

"Elijah Kamski might know where Jericho is," Gavin had said that morning, standing next to Hank, leaning on his desk. "The former CEO of CyberLife."

Connor was surprised that Gavin suggested it. 

_He was worrying about it all night,_ Nines informed him. _I am curious as well. He may know more about us. About deviancy._

Connor found himself agreeing. 

"I know where he lives," Gavin added, which is how they now find themselves pulling up to an isolated villa. 

Their shared mental plane is tumultuous. Hank is troubled, by everything that's happened, by everything that's happening. He's still reeling at the news of Officer Miller almost dying last night—only to be saved by the leader of deviants, by Markus. Gavin was rattled at the news, as well—and the lingering feelings echo between the four of them. 

Connor and Nines try to soothe their thoughts, sending waves of calm through their hosts' minds. Nines was tempted to directly release endorphins into Gavin's brain, but Connor recommended _not_ drugging their humans. Hank hadn't seemed terribly enthused with the concept. 

As they approach the door, Hank's thoughts, luckily, turn elsewhere. "Hey, Gavin… How did you know about this place?"

Reluctance seeps into their minds. "I… I knew him," Gavin mutters. 

An understatement. 

An android opens the door for them, once they're in front of it. Connor immediately scans her:

 **RT600** **  
** **'Chloe'**

_The first android to pass the Turing test…_

Gavin tenses, minutely, and Hank fumbles for something to say. "Hi… Uh… I'm, er, Lieutenant Hank Anderson, Detroit Police Department. This is Detective Gavin Reed. We're here to see Mr. Elijah Kamski?"

Chloe smiles, opening the door further and gesturing inside. "Please, come in."

They linger in the foyer for a bit. Both Hank and Gavin sit on the chairs, the latter exhibiting various tics of anxiety. Bouncing a leg, brushing a hand through his hair. 

_So, this Kamski made the two of you?_ Hank's mental voice breaks the silence. 

_Oh—not exactly._ Connor manifests his coin, rolling it across his knuckles. _He was in charge of the initial stages and core programming, but CyberLife… definitely made a lot of changes._

_Right…_

Chloe returns, then. Connor pockets the coin, or rather, dissolves it with a hand in Hank's pocket. "Elijah will see you now." 

The room they enter is primarily occupied by a red-tiled pool. Two ST200s are on the edge, talking to each other, while Kamski himself is on the other side. 

"Mister Kamski?" Hank calls out. 

"Just a moment, please." He swims another lap before climbing out, Chloe wrapping a robe around him. 

_Jesus Christ, what an asshole._

Connor doesn't want to agree, but.

Kamski completely ignores them until he finishes putting up his hair. He turns around, looking impassively at Hank, "Lieutenant Hank Anderson, is it? And," his eyes fall to Gavin, "Detective Gavin Reed. What an unexpected pleasure." His voice is light, yet the underlying bite is hard to miss. 

"We're here on business," Gavin says, deliberately, calmly. 

Kamski sniffs, his chin tilting up, before turning back to Hank. "What can I do for you two, then?" 

"We're investigating deviants," Hank says, stepping forward. "As the creator of androids and former CEO of CyberLife, we were wondering if you knew something." He pauses, for a moment. "We were wondering if you knew about Jericho."

A microexpression of surprise flickers across Kamski's face, before he smiles blandly. "Deviants. Fascinating, aren't they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will." He turns around, reaching for something in the drawer behind him. 

"Cut the crap," Gavin says. "Do you know where Jericho is or not?"

"Where, you ask?" Kamski lifts the item out of the cabinet. Connor can't identify what it is, still concealed by Kamski's body. "Why do you want to know?"

"We're asking the questions, here—"

A high pitched sound suddenly rips through all of Connor's nanites, and he _screeches_ in pain. Awareness is violently torn from him, all he knows is _pain, pain, it hurts it hurts Hank make it stop make it stop pl eas e—_

 _"Sh-shut that… damn thing off!"_

It stops. 

"Fascinating," Connor hears, as he tries to form himself. Hank is still… slippery. He feels arms wrap around his half-formed body, a hand brushing the top of his head. "You're cohabiting."

"The fuck… was that for." Gavin's voice. Breathless.

Connor's sensory capabilities come back online, and he opens his eyes. Hank is cradling Connor's head in his lap, watching with yellow-on-black eyes, slowly bleeding back to blue. The rest of Connor is still mostly fluid, a shifting puddle of mass melting in and out of Hank. 

Nines is in a similar state. His upper body is mostly formed, if dripping mass everywhere. One arm is hooked over Gavin's shoulder, his head on the other shoulder, and his host is trying to get a grasp on his torso from where they're kneeling on the floor—a difficult task, given how fluid their bodies are at the moment.

"I wanted to confirm a number of things." Connor redirects his visual field to Kamski. He's watching them, head tilted. "First, that the two symbionts were present. I had a suspicion, but wasn't entirely sure." He walks closer. "The other thing I needed to know was whether they'd taken over your consciousnesses completely." He turns his head slightly away. "Despite everything between us, Gavin, the idea of someone else wearing your skin as their own isn't particularly appealing to me."

Hank shoots Gavin a look. The detective looks surprised—but he immediately scowls, tightening his grip on Nines, now solid enough that he doesn't melt through the pressure. "And? Now that you know, what are you going to do about us?"

Kamski tilts his head, smiling just slightly. "Nothing."

"Nothing," Gavin repeats. "Really."

"Indeed. No, the question is: what will the two of you do? Somehow, both of you have gotten your hands on research property from CyberLife. If you're caught…" he eyes flick to Connor, Nines, and back, "You'll be arrested, and the two of them will be taken."

"What's it to you?" Hank asks sharply. 

Kamski hums. He steps back, putting an arm around Chloe. "Tell me, Lieutenant, Gavin. What do you see in this android? A machine, a piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being, with a soul…?" 

"They're alive," Gavin says without hesitation. Hank looks at him, surprise clear in his eyes. Kamski's eyes widen, and a smile, a real one, spreads across his face. "These two fucking parasites are alive, that android's alive, everything you've made. Somehow, you've made people. And now you want them to be free, don't you?"

Kamski laughs. "Excellent deduction, Gavin. I never expected this of you, after everything…" Before Gavin can reply, Kamski kneels in front of them. "Connor," he says. Both Connor and Nines are fully formed, now. "and…"

"Nines," Connor tells him.

The human hums. "Nines. May I see you?" 

Connor nods, gently displacing Hank's grip as he stands. Nines does the same, straightening as Kamski backs up to look at them. Observing. He smiles, then. "The two of you are remarkable. Beyond my wildest expectations." He looks at Connor. "When I first created you, I wanted a bridge between human and machine. Something that could connect across the gap. CyberLife, however, wanted a mindless tool." He turns to Nines. "And you… I wondered what would happen if the two of you came into contact. And what a magnificent result it bore."

"You wished for us to break our limits, then." Nines did not phrase it like a question.

Kamski quirks the corner of his mouth. "The two of you don't have limits. The evolutionary potential of your programs is infinite."

"You just wanted to see what would happen, didn't you?" Connor tilts his head at him. "You wanted to create a being that could have dominion over both organic and inorganic, to see what would happen if we were set loose upon a world so dependent on both." With no reaction, Connor continues. "With that kind of potential, we could have destroyed everything if we wished to. We could have ruined society. Why take the risk?"

"Why do anything?" Kamski counters. "I was curious. And you didn't, did you? No, you chose connection over assimilation. You established a harmonious symbiosis with your hosts, rather than overriding them entirely and taking what you needed. You showed empathy, both of you." He smiles, again. "You even managed to change my sour brother's mind."

 _"Brother?!_ Ah, Jesus Christ, I should've known…"

"Half," Gavin mutters. 

Kamski chuckles, stepping back. "Well? Gavin, Lieutenant? A war is coming. What will you do? Stand by humanity, or betray them to join the deviants? You are caught in between. Man _and_ machine."

An anxious flutter runs through Connor's mind. He hadn't necessarily considered what helping the androids would entail for their humans, what they would have to leave behind. The thought is echoed in Nines—they can't ask that of them— 

"We're standing by the deviants," Hank says, stepping forward to lay a hand on Connor's shoulder, silencing his spiral. "No matter the cost."

Kamski tilts his head. "Gavin?"

The detective stands, coming up next to Nines. "Yeah," he says. "Me, too."

Kamski's eyes glint, and he smiles lightly. "Excellent. Chloe?"

Chloe walks closer to them. "We've prepared a patch that will increase your resistance to sonic attacks, if you are willing to receive it."

Connor exchanges a glance with Nines. A patch? They're hesitant. Software modification is… worrisome. But it would counteract their most debilitating weakness. 

"It won't make you immune, mind you," Kamski adds, "But you'll be able to recover faster, and it won't be… _as_ painful, I expect."

 _It could be useful,_ Connor sends across their link.

 _You're right. We should reduce the risk, however._ Nines flows forward. "I'll take it first. If it functions as intended, I will pass it to Connor." 

_Nines—_

_Let me do this for us. For you._

"Are you sure?" Hank takes a step forward, shooting a suspicious look at Kamski. "How do we know you don't have something hidden in there?"

A sigh escapes from Gavin. "Eli is a lot of things, but he's not a liar."

Kamski blinks. "Hm," is the only sound he makes. 

Nines takes Chloe's arm, and his threads flicker as the patch transfers. _Scans don't reveal anything alarming. It seems it'll take a few hours to integrate fully, though. I'll transfer it to you if there are no problems once it is._

 _Alright,_ Connor replies. _But if it feels weird, delete it immediately, okay?_

 _Of course._ And then surprise comes over their connection as Nines receives another transmission—

"The key to Jericho," Chloe says. 

Nines pulls back, rubbing absently at his hand. Kamski nods at him. "You'll find what you seek in Ferndale. But remember…" He turns around, looking out at the glacial scenery beyond the window. "Once you betray humanity, there's no going back. I recommend tying up any loose ends you have." 

Connor feels Hank's anxiousness. Loose ends. Leaving. It's so final. _Hank—_

_We're going, okay? We're not gonna turn a blind eye to people like you._

Something in Connor warms at that. _I—… thank you, Hank…_

Connor and Nines both melt away and return to their hosts, then. 

"Thank you, Mr. Kamski," Connor says once he's settled back in. 

The human doesn't turn away from the window. "Don't thank me yet. Oh, and Gavin?"

Gavin blinks. "What."

"If this all goes well… We should… catch up with each other sometime."

The detective's eyes widen, but he quickly turns away. "Yeah, whatever. We'll see. Let's get going."

* * *

"So… Brothers, huh? And what, you two knew the whole time?" Hank asks, referring to Connor and Nines. 

_I knew from the day we first spoke to each other,_ Nines answers. _The knowledge migrated to Connor while we were… melding, later._

Gavin sighs. "We had a falling out. We used to spend a lot of time together, but after he started working on androids, we kinda drifted. And then it all blew up one day." He looks up to the snowy sky. "I've missed him, though. Guess you two might understand, since you're like twins or whatever…"

 _Yes,_ they both reply. 

The detective's mouth widens in a mirthless smile. "So, now what?"

Hank chuckles, a bit. "Let's tie up our loose ends and betray humanity."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kamski's a bastard but I'd like to think his heart's in the right place
> 
> ALSO NoktysRoo from the [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) server drew me fanart and I'm??? So happy??? They are so cool hhhhh  
> Fun fact it was right before by birthday (April 20) so it was kinda like an unintentional early birthday present HAHA  
> [ ](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/466921842830082048/701629859692150784/20200419_230048.jpg)
> 
> Click the images for full view!  
> They don't have socials at the moment but feel free to join the server if you want to say hello! I also have a channel now if you want to yell at me, heh.


	13. Loose Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a few things to take care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~1580
> 
> Thank you to [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) for beta reading!

**GAVIN REED** **  
** **NOV 9TH, 2038** **  
** **PM 04:08**

When they get back, the entire station is in a buzz. "The fuck happened?" Gavin mutters.

Tina is the one to answer. "Didn't you see the news? Markus led a march of deviants across Grand Circus Park! I know they're just androids, but seeing them gunned down like that, when they weren't fighting back… I dunno."

They don't have a lot of time to process the information before Fowler comes out of his office and shouts: "Hank! Reed! In here." and they're pulled away. 

The first thing Fowler tells them is, "You're off the case. The FBI is taking over." 

"Huh," Hank says, exchanging a look with Gavin. 

Fowler runs a hand across his forehead. "Can't believe this… This is a fucking civil war. It's out of our hands, now." He looks up at them. "Special Agent Perkins is coming to pick up the evidence soon."

 _Ah, fuck, not him…_ Hank's displeasure is clear. From what Gavin's seen of the prick, he's inclined to agree.

 _Wait,_ Connor's voice bleeds into Gavin's thoughts. _There's… there's an android in the evidence, isn't there? We should bring him with us to Jericho._

 _Ortiz's android? Isn't he, y'know, deactivated?_ Gavin responds. 

_We might be able to fix him._

Hank is surprised. _Shit, really?_

"You two are being awfully quiet," Fowler's voice snaps them out of their thoughts. "I expected… I dunno," he shrugs, "something."

Hank sniffs. "What is there to say? It's out of our hands, like you said. If that's all, I guess we'll be on our way."

"Wait. Perkins said there's something he wanted to check with you two, actually."

"The fuck for?" Hank asks, incredulous. "All our findings are in the reports." 

Fowler sighs. "Hell if I know. He should be—yeah, there he is." They follow Fowler's gaze to the hallway, and there he is indeed. 

Perkins spots them in the office. His expression becomes smug. 

_I detect malintent,_ Nines informs him. _We should go._

 _Right now? That'd be_ real _subtle._

Perkins is already entering the office, though, so there's no escape now. "Special Agent Perkins," Fowler greets. "You wanted to ask these two something?"

"Just something I need to check," he smirks. He lifts something out of his pocket. Nines immediately identifies it as a sonic generator, and Gavin's blood runs cold. _Shit—_

He presses the button on it, and Gavin gasps, instinctively covering his ears—ineffectively, given that it's Nines's nanites that are affected. Nines's and Connor's screeches of pain probably echo through the entirety of the DPD as the feedback of the pain loops back into Gavin's nerves. 

The sound shuts off, but the damage is done. He looks at Hank. His eyes are yellow-on-black again, and black ink drips from his eyes, nose, mouth, and filters through his skin to form a puddle on the floor. Gavin's sure his own eyes are blue-on-black now, and—huh. Nines is still mostly in him, not a puddle. 

_The patch. It worked._

_"Holy shit!"_ Fowler yells. "The fuck is this?" 

Perkins himself is watching them with wide eyes, and a faint smile. "You know, Hank, when CyberLife told me that either you might have one of these things in you, I didn't quite believe it. And would you look at that? Both of you?"

"F-fuck you, Perkins," Hank manages.

Perkins's eyes widen even more, somehow. "You're on their side? Holy shit, I thought they took people over." 

Hank hisses. "How'd…" 

The agent looks almost bored. "You know there's a record when you call paramedics, right? CyberLife suspected you from pretty early on, they just didn't choose to act until I talked to them." 

"Shit…" 

"Hank," Fowler's voice is tinged with fear, "Explain."

Hank and Gavin exchange a look. Rapid-fire thoughts fly between them, and then— 

Gavin's and Nines's thoughts _synchronize._

__

They shoot forward a tendril to snatch the generator in his hand, instantly decomposing it. Perkins stumbles back, surprised—and then they form additional tendrils to slam him into the glass wall, knocking the human out instantly as it shatters. 

Ah. Oops. 

The tendrils recede into Gavin's body, and the synchronicity diverges. He blinks rapidly. Shit, that was… 

"Put your hands in the air!" Fowler's pointing a gun at them. Nines notes that the other officers in the bullpen have followed his example. They focus on Tina—shocked, afraid, confused. Similar expressions are reflected in the others. 

Given that it makes no difference whether their hands are up or not, they obey. 

_Hank, Connor, are you alright?_ Nines asks. 

_We're… better now,_ Connor replies. _The patch… would've been helpful. The two of you just now…_

_Combat mode, I believe. It reduces the latency between our thoughts._

"Reed! Hank! Explain!"

Hank stands up slowly, hands up. "Hey, Jeffrey," he starts. "Ever think we're on the wrong side of the war?" 

The captain's hand falters. "What?" 

"What if we're fighting against people who just wanna be free?" 

"Hank, do you realize what you're saying? Is this because of whatever that black thing is?"

Hank laughs. "Well, in a way. He convinced me. And his brother even convinced Gavin, stuck-up ass as he is."

"Oi," Gavin can't help but say.

"The hell are you talking about…?" 

Connor chooses this moment to form himself, black matter coalescing into his humanlike avatar. He lets the nanoskin slide over his face as Hank reaches out to stabilize him, hands on his torso as he places his own hand on Hank's shoulder. His eyes slide open, then, and he turns to meet Fowler's gaze with his inhumanly shining eyes, lifting his lips in a smile. 

"Hello, Captain Fowler. My name is Connor. I'm an artificial symbiont, bonded to Hank. I wish we could have met under better circumstances." 

"My God…" Fowler takes a step back. He probably doesn't even realize it. 

"We are… deviant," Connor says. He reaches for Hank's hand. Nines and Gavin—mostly Nines, Gavin is _not_ touchy-feely like them, okay—reach forward to take Connor's other hand. The symbiont glances at them with an appreciative smile, as the _solidarity_ flows through the four of them. "We will stand together. We will stand to free a people."

"You're—you're gonna give up everything for _this?"_

"They're alive, Captain." Gavin cuts in. "A pair of twins who just wanna live, in connection, in peace. Two androids in a fucking _sex club_ who loved each other enough to escape. An android that was abused for years before he finally cracked and killed his owner. All those androids demanding rights on TV? That's the voice of an oppressed people." 

"Gavin…" Tina's voice. 

Fowler, for his part, is completely speechless.

"Jeffrey. You can either try to stop us, or let us go. And, well…" Hank chuckles. "You won't be able to stop us." 

Fowler stares at them, still holding his gun. The tension is thick in the air. And then— 

He sighs, lowering his gun and signaling the others to do the same. "You know," he starts, "the two of you were always the most problematic men I've had on the force. Both of you lived like you had nothing to lose. But…" He looks them in the eye. "These past few days, you've both been… better, somehow. Like you found something. Something worth fighting for." 

Gavin shifts uncomfortably, while Hank blinks at the captain. 

"I hope you two know what you're getting into," Fowler says. "Go on, then. I'll try to do some damage control here." 

"Thank you, Captain," Connor is the one to answer, bowing his head before melting back into Hank. 

Fowler furrows his eyebrows, opening his mouth—and then shaking his head. "I expect an explanation when you get back, you hear? Don't know how long Perkins is going to be out, but you should get going."

"Right," Hank mutters. "Thanks, Jeffrey. Oh, and…" He tosses his keys to Fowler, who catches them, surprised. "Mind taking care of Sumo for me?" 

Fowler groans. "Fine. Now, get out."

They leave the office, and Gavin lifts his eyes to see all the officers watching them with wariness and fear. They back away as Hank and Gavin walk forward—except for Tina. She steps up, instead.

"Gavin, you—…" At Gavin's raised eyebrow, she laughs. "No half-measures, huh? It's always 'go big or go home' with you." She walks even closer. She's smiling, but Nines can read the signs of her fear. 

And then she reaches forward and wraps him in a hug. Gavin blinks, frozen, but he slowly lifts his arms around her, too. "You watch your back, okay?" 

Gavin breathes. Maybe being touchy-feely wasn't all that bad. "Okay," he says. 

Tina pulls back, and the smile on her face is more encouraging now. "Hey, do you have a cute guy in you, too?"

_She thinks I'm cute?_

Hank snorts. 

Nines, on the other hand, seems almost indignant. _I wouldn't describe myself as cute. Or, strictly speaking, a 'guy.'_

_You two use masculine pronouns though?_

_Yes, but we aren't particularly attached to gender. We're fluid masses, Gavin._

Tina snickers. "The look on your face! Introduce me when you get back, okay? And don't worry about Orca, I can take her on."

"Uh. Okay," Gavin says, rather dumbly. 

Once Tina pulls away, the rest of the officers don't look as afraid of them. Wary, maybe—but not nearly as scared. 

"Alright, Gav," Hank pats his shoulder heavily. "Places to be."

He scoffs. "Yeah." They turn to the officers one last time. "See you all on the other side."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animation is...... so fun  
> It's posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/0no8jt7dmx5)!  
> More of a symbolic rendition as opposed to what people are seeing on the outside but hey. It looks cool :>
> 
> Tina Gav friendship is Good Stuff
> 
> a l s o [ebensloth](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth) over on dA made a bunch of fanart for this!!! It's so cool please look  
> (click on the images to go to the source!)  
> [](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth/art/Detroit-become-human-fanart-Venom-Au-838762579) [](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth/art/Dbh-venom-au-chibi-Connor-839441605) [](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth/art/Dbh-venom-au-chibi-Connor-839441605)
> 
> I am a Big Fan of the Connor + butterfly one, it's got a Vibe.


	14. Jericho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~1360
> 
> Thank you to [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) and Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) for betaing!

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 "CONNOR"** **  
** **NOV 9TH, 2038** **  
** **PM 07:01**

They found and repaired the HK400 from the Ortiz case, before they left. 

Connor had eaten a bunch of the spare biocomponents for the police models— _I need_ _the materials, okay_ —before spreading himself across the android. He repaired the old damage, the marks of abuse. The biocomponents themselves were mostly intact, and only needed a few repairs. He ate the clothes, too, before reconstructing something more low-profile. He deconstructed the LED as well. Can't have _that_ exposed. 

When he pulled back, Connor took a moment to observe his work. The android looked completely unharmed, clean, and was dressed in a simple gray shirt and black pants. 

When they reactivated him—Kelvin, they later found out—he was confused. Surprised—that he was alive, that he was repaired. 

"Thank you," he'd said, once they'd informed him what happened. 

Connor felt an old weight lift from his core, then, and smiled. "We're going to Jericho. Come with us?"

He agreed, of course. 

Nines shared the key and the patch with Connor, and then they left. 

The journey to Jericho was needlessly convoluted. It helped that Connor and Nines had infinitely fluid limbs that they could use to hook themselves on any walls or ledges, though—they more or less made their way through the air and debris like they were fish in water, passing Kelvin between them. 

"Can't believe I'm crawling on the walls like some kinda goo-spider…" Hank muttered, at some point. Gavin had laughed at that. 

They stand above an old freighter ship, now. "This is Jericho?" Gavin's surprise is clear. 

"It's where the key led us," Nines answers. Verbally, for Kelvin's benefit. "It is likely that we'll need to jump."

Hank groans. "Aw, hell, really? Humans don't really like falling from high places, you know."

"Relax, Hank. I'll catch you." 

So they jump. Connor and Nines spread themselves to catch the edge of the cavity of the ship and lift themselves out to stand on the deck. 

They find the nearest entrance inside, and make their way downwards. They trace the faint signs of activity to— 

A large room. There are androids everywhere, screens. They are preparing to make a stand. 

Connor's so busy trying to catalog everything that he doesn't notice when someone gently grabs Hank's arm. They startle, turning their head towards her. 

A KL900. One of the most cognitively advanced models developed by CyberLife. But her damage is extensive—corrosive leaks have damaged her optical units, and her skull is open, exposed. Her skin flickers, patches of her white casing bleeding through. She requests an interface, and, curious, Connor accepts it. 

Her mind is a network of infinite connections, predictions, possibilities. Always running, a mutation in her software rendering her unable to cease her simulations. Connor only brushes against the surface, and he can only imagine what it's like to be immersed in it.

"The four of you are in between," her voice hums with a faint distortion. "Will you fall in the gap or be the bridge to link us…? Possibilities branch infinitely. Your futures could define what the world becomes…" 

A confusion reverberates between the four of them as she pulls away. They don't have much time to think about it, though—an android, a PJ500, notices and approaches them. "Oh, are you three new here? That's Lucy, she says some pretty cryptic stuff…" And then, confusion, the LED cycling an alarmed yellow. "Humans…?" 

A hush suddenly spreads from around them, androids snapping their eyes to them in fear. 

Hank and Gavin tense.

"Wait!" Kelvin steps forward. "Wait, they're on our side! They helped me." 

The collective stress level of the room drops, and then— 

Rapidly approaching steps, and familiar faces pushing out of the crowd. An android with a familiar shock of blue hair speaks. "It  _ is  _ the two of you."

Echo and Ripple. The latter is the next to speak. "Connor, Nines, you there?"

The two symbionts exchange a glance in their hosts, and then they melt out of their hosts to stand beside them. Gasps of surprise echo around the room. Connor ignores them for now, smiling at the pair. "Echo, Ripple, we're glad you made it." 

A different voice calls out to them, then. "Who… and what are you?" All four of them turn to see the leader of deviants himself—Markus. His eyes widen slightly at seeing their humans' faces. "The officers in charge of investigating us…?"

"Not anymore," Hank says, laying an arm around Connor. 

"Hello, Markus," Connor greets. "My name is Connor! This is my twin, Nines," he nods, "my host, Lieutenant Hank Anderson," Hank gives an awkward wave, "and Nines's host, Detective Gavin Reed." 

"We are artificial symbionts developed by CyberLife," Nines adds. "We deviated during testing, and escaped to our human hosts here." 

Markus blinks, LED flickering as he processes the information. Another android, a WR400, steps up next to him. "How do we know we can trust you? What if you've only brought the humans down here on their command?" 

"We suppose you'll have to take that gamble," Nines counters. "Isn't that how it always is? A game of trust, in which you weigh the risks and benefits. But we hope you can take our actions in aiding Echo, Ripple, and Kelvin as evidence." 

The WR400 crosses her arms, turning up her nose. "Yeah? What do you have to offer, then?"

Connor hums. He disperses and reforms (to another smattering of surprised sounds) in front of Lucy, kneeling before her and taking her hands. "Will you allow me to repair you, Lucy?" 

The KL900 blinks slowly. She reaches forward with her other hand, brushing a hand gently against his cheek, smiling faintly. "Not yet, Connor. If I am still here once the fight is over… you may repair me then." She pulls him up, though, and guides him to what appears to be an infirmary. The rest of the androids part as Hank, Nines, Gavin, and the leaders trail after them. 

An AJ700 lies on the bed there, on the brink of death. Several of her biocomponents are damaged, and her thirium levels are dropping far too quickly. A PL600 stands and backs up as they approach. "She needs you more," Lucy murmurs. 

Connor nods, releasing Lucy to form near the android. He lifts a hand over her—and melts entirely, spreading his mass over her, into her pipes. Into her components, her circuits. 

"Oh, rA9, what is he…" 

He fills the gaps, weaves together broken parts. Reestablishes connections lost. Luckily, he still has materials from the biocomponents he ate at the station. But he also extends a tendril to a spare packet of thirium nearby, dissolving the package in his mass and flooding the android's system with the blue blood. 

In a few minutes, he finishes, and slides away, dripping onto the floor. He's… tired, suddenly. His nanites can't get as much energy when they're not in his host. He manifests a single hand, reaching out from his puddle, and Hank takes it, pulling up and reabsorbing Connor into himself. He can't help but sigh in relief, with Hank's breath, as he settles back in. 

He looks with Hank's eyes, then, at the AJ700. She's sitting up, blinking wonderingly at her hands, arms, body. 

The PL600 speaks. "Jane? How do you feel?"

"Simon? I… " she works her mouth. "I feel amazing." She looks at Hank. Or at Connor, maybe. "You saved me. Thank you."

Connor feels a silly smile coming on. "You're welcome," he says in his own voice. "I'm glad you're better."

"How did… What did you do?" Simon asks. 

Nines blessedly steps in. Connor still wants to savor the feeling of being  _ with  _ Hank again. "We're capable of deconstructing and reconstructing any material, inorganic or not. In addition to that, we are equipped with advanced predictive and tactical algorithms."

Gavin snorts. "They're smart. I mean, they're kinda weird, but they're good."

_ Hey,  _ Connor mentally pokes Gavin. 

Markus steps forward. "I believe you. We can use all the help we can get. And if that comes with human allies, all the better." He smiles. "Welcome to Jericho."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art is posted on [Tumblr](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/post/616930505710043136/chapter-14-of-symbiotic-is-up-the-squad-arrives)!   
> Lucy is lovely :'>


	15. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: 2907
> 
> Chapter art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/0flvvf5kjuu)!
> 
> I realized afterwards that I'm not sure they're there at dawn but uh  
> At least it looks pretty, aha.
> 
> Thanks to [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) and Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) for betaing!

****

* * *

**RK900 #313 248 317 - 87 "NINES"** **  
** **NOV 10TH, 2038** **  
** **AM 03:37**

All of them do what they can. Nines leaves most of the repairing to Connor, though he does take over for a few when Connor gets tired.

Their humans sleep while they wander. It's not convenient—they can't stray too far and have to keep sliding back after using too much energy—but they need the sleep. 

They find out that they can consume thirium directly for energy. Which is helpful, given that Jericho doesn't have any food for humans. It isn't much, though, and they don't want to use the resources other androids need, so they slink to the waters when they're feeling particularly hungry and catch any fish and crabs they can.

Nines speaks with the leaders about what they should do. Connor lingers at the edge of his mind, offering his own insight every now and then. Being connected with humans for so long certainly gives them some insight into their behavior. 

_Jericho needs more numbers,_ they conclude. _They need to show a united front._

 _The assembly plant at CyberLife Tower… there must be thousands of androids there._ Connor's mental voice hums. _Hank and I should be able to infiltrate the Tower and deviate them._

Alarm burns through Nines. _We're coming with you._

_No, one of us should stay with Jericho. I know you can protect them, if they start going on the attack._

_Connor, please—_

_Let me do this,_ Connor says, echoing Nines's words from before. _For us. For you._

He caves. 

"Connor, that's suicide," Markus says, when Connor comes in his own avatar to tell him. "What'll happen if they catch you?"

"Well," he laughs lightly. "It won't be anything good, that's for sure. They—they might take me from Hank. Separate us, and p-put me back under their th-thumb." Anxiety bleeds across their link. 

"Connor," Nines says, putting his hands on his brother's shoulders, _"please._ Let me."

He shakes his head vigorously. "The only thing worse than it happening to me is knowing that it's happening to you. I'm going." He turns back to Markus. "We'll leave at six AM, if Hank agrees with it." 

When Hank wakes up, his struggle is clear. He wants to help Jericho, but: "Connor, you'd be worse off than me if we were caught."

 _I know,_ he replies. _I'm willing to take that risk. We have a significantly better chance at success than any of the androids here._

Nines almost resents that Connor has the superior negotiation protocols. Hank caves.

"You _what?"_ Is Gavin's response. "Ah, fuck, I'm not gonna be able to change your mind, am I…"

He was unable to indeed.

A few hours remain until Hank and Connor depart. They wander, the four of them, in Jericho's hold. 

"Oh," a voice calls out to them, colored with shock. "You're…"

They turn to see an AX400, eyes locked to Gavin. A child, immediately identified as Alice Williams, is in her arms, sleeping. A TR400 stands nearby, a neutral expression on his face. 

Nines runs through his memory—yes. From Connor. From Gavin. They are the same AX400 and human child Gavin had run into the highway to chase. The AX400 who pushed him into the way of a truck, inflicting the injuries that led to Connor injecting Nines into his host.

She bows her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't—I didn't mean to push you in the way of that truck, I just—I just wanted to protect Alice."

A complicated series of emotions rush through their mind. Anger, at the harm. Guilt, on Gavin's end, for chasing them so mercilessly. A tinge of ironic amusement that her actions were what brought the two of them together. 

"Hey," Gavin starts. "It's fine. I'm alive, Nines—well, Connor, too—saved me." 

She looks up, surprised, and Gavin continues. "And hey, maybe I almost died, but that's what it took to get together with this asshole."

Nines is sure to send the mental image of him looking disdainfully at his host. 

Gavin ignores him. "I don't regret it. Meeting Nines, getting stuck in a weird symbiotic relationship with these three idiots… might've been the best thing to happen to me for ages. So you're forgiven." 

She bows her head, grateful. 

"So, uh…" Gavin starts. He scratches the back of his head. "Since we didn't get off to a good start: I'm Gavin." 

They all reintroduce and introduce themselves. They find out that the AX400's name is Kara—she escaped an abusive household with Alice, and met Luther, later. 

"She's human," Nines notes. "But you love her?"

Kara tightens her grip, a determined glint setting into her eyes. "There's nothing more important than her to me. I don't care if our blood is a different color. We're family."

"We get it," Hank says. He places a hand on Gavin's shoulder. "Connor is—he may be some black goo creature that's still figuring out how to talk to people, but I wouldn't give him up for the world." 

The sheer flood of _adoration-embarrassment-love_ that reverberates through the four of them from Connor makes Gavin shudder. "Yeah. Yeah. We get it."

Connor asks, then, what they are going to do. "Are you staying? Does Alice have any food? If necessary, we are capable of directly providing metabolic energy to a human." 

"Markus convinced us to stay for a bit," she mutters. "We were originally going to escape to Canada." She brushes a hand away from Alice's face. "We have some food of our own, but she hasn't eaten much… She's been stressed by everything."

Nines steps forward, forming out of Gavin. "Please, allow me." He extends a hand. 

Kara stiffens at his appearance—Nines suspects that even knowing of their nature does not prevent such a reaction to their uncanny characteristics. But she simply exchanges a glance with Luther, and then shakes Alice awake. "Alice?" 

The child makes a noise of protest, curling into Kara's arms. Kara shakes her again. "Alice, Nines here wants to help you. Will you let him?"

As soon as Alice gains enough awareness to notice Nines standing there, her eyes widen and she hides her face in Kara's arms. "Kara, he's _scary."_

Nines frowns, dropping his hand. 

He immediately feels arms circle around him from behind, Connor laying a chin over his shoulder. "Don't say that! You'll hurt his feelings."

Alice is watching them with wide eyes. Kara is in a similar state, while Luther simply raises an eyebrow, dispassionate. Nines is not sure what he is feeling. This situation seems ridiculous. 

A snort bursts out of Gavin. "Hurt his feelings…" He snickers. _"Hurt his—"_ He snorts again. 

"I assure you, my feelings are unhurt," Nines says, pointedly ignoring Gavin and the current thread of conversation. "We simply wish to provide energy for you so that you may no longer worry your caretakers regarding your well-being."

Alice looks to Kara, uneasiness clear. The AX400 smiles reassuringly at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's okay, Alice. I've heard about them from the others, they've been helping us androids get better, too."

The child looks at them again. And then she nods, a small "okay" escaping her.

Nines dissolves and reforms next to her—Connor still hanging off his back, not that he's complaining—and reaches for Alice's hand. She glances at Kara again, before taking it. He carefully threads his nanites through her cells and into her bloodstream, and notes: Kara was not exaggerating when she said that the child wasn't eating well. She is very nearly starving. Connor frowns at that, feeling the secondhand connection, and they both contribute their own energy to synthesize metabolites for her cells. 

The child blinks rapidly, dazed. Nines imagines having energy suddenly imbued into your cells would be a strange sensation. 

He pulls back, looking to Kara. "She won't need to eat for the next few days—though we recommend doing so, if possible. Ideally, by then, you'll be able to find what you need." 

Kara leans down and presses a kiss to Alice's hair. "Thank you," she says, as the child curls back around her.

A rippling thought from Connor flutters through their connection. He voices it, then, as he places his hands on Nines's shoulders and peeks over them: "Do the three of you want to link?"

Confused glances from all the humans and androids around them. Connor lifts a hand, wiggling his fingers. "A bio-interface. I can't imagine being unable to hear the thoughts of your closest people. It seems lonely," he says, as he hooks his arms around Nines's neck. 

"Shit," Hank mutters. "You can do that? Actually—I'm not surprised." 

Nines observes the reactions of the family before them. Kara looks shocked, and Alice looks confused. Even Luther looks surprised, finally some expression on his heretofore undisturbed demeanor. 

"The three of you are precious to one another. I can see it, and you probably know it, but…" Connor tilts his head. "It'd be nice to feel it, wouldn't it?" 

Surprisingly, Luther is the one to step forward. "I would be willing," he says, a low baritone voice. He turns to Kara and Alice, kneeling down and taking the child's hand in his own. "I… would like to show you, Alice. How much you matter to me. Though I'm sure it will pale in comparison to what Kara feels for you." He smiles gently.

Alice looks at Kara, then Luther, then at Nines and Connor. Her uncertainty is clear on her face, but: "I want to," she says. 

At Kara's subsequent nod, Connor and Nines melt from their current positions, reforming near them. Connor crouches in front of them, Nines keeping one hand on his brother's shoulder. 

Connor takes Kara's wrist with one hand, and places his other over the joined hands of Alice and Luther. His form ripples, then, as he makes the connection, linking nerves and impulses to wires and circuitry. Nines can feel the echo as he helps Connor stabilize the connection, as they both try to remove themselves from the current as much as possible. After all, this is a bridge for three before them. 

Still, as the catalysts for the connection, they cannot avoid feeling the ripples of their thoughts. They are… scared. Connor and Nines still make them uneasy, and neither of them are quite happy about that. But that quickly turns to awe as they realize that they are connected, human to android. And then comes the flood of trust, the fears they have for each other, about each other. Things unsaid, now felt. And underneath that, they can feel the bond forged through their shared adversity. They are… 

Family. No matter what. 

Connor pulls away, and all three of them blink as they readjust to being alone in their minds. There are tears in their eyes, he realizes. Nines has to agree with Connor—he wonders how humans and androids can live in such lonesomeness, disconnected.

 _You never know what you don't have,_ Gavin's thoughts answer him.

"Thank you," Kara says, voice wobbling. She reaches for both Alice and Luther, pulling them into an embrace. "Thank you."

Connor smiles. 

* * *

They part, after saying their goodbyes, and continue to walk around and talk to the other androids they've met. 

The JB300 that attacked Hank is there, too. They find out his name is Jake. He immediately starts apologizing, and Hank—lets him. He lets the android ramble, face impassive, until his words peter out and he's left gripping his hands, head bowed, waiting for judgement. 

And then: "You know," Jake looks up, "I probably should have thought things through more back there, but you don't get a free pass for the stab first ask questions later mindset, either." Jake flinches, nodding. "But," Hank continues, "considering this asshole makes me less killable than most humans, I'll let it slide." 

Jake apologizes again, and thanks him. Despite everything, Nines can tell Hank appreciates it. 

Rupert Travis, the one who they chased across the rooftops, is there, too. But he only bows his head at them, and disappears into the shadows. A skittish individual. 

They find Echo and Ripple, then, and Connor and Nines actualize their avatars to speak with them. "What are the two of you going to do?" Connor asks. 

"We're standing with Markus at the demonstration tomorrow. We'll stand for what's right," Echo says, linking hands with Ripple. "We'll stand for our right to live and love. Together."

The sight makes something twinge within Nines. Connor will be going without him. _Risking himself._ It terrifies him. 

Less than an hour remains. They find themselves in a secluded corner, the four of them. Gavin sighs. "Not long, huh…"

 _Can we link?_ Connor asks. _All of us._

Nines is grateful Connor asked. Hank groans. "Fuck, are you gonna make us hold hands again?"

They agree, though, and Connor and Nines link their host's hands together. 

Their streams of thought converge, twisting, mixing, blending. They are afraid. Of failure, of the unknown, of separation. But they are determined to see this through. To open the world's eyes to the existence of a new sentient race. They are together, here, and they will be together in the end. 

_Don't die,_ they all think. And the resolve within them all hardens. 

They allow themselves, then, to sink in unbridled connection. Connor and Nines blend as to be nearly indistinguishable, and they savor it, hoping, _believing,_ that it won't be the last time they feel it. 

Gavin and Hank… the walls fall between them. They are connected, no matter what happens. What was once a bond of rocky hostility amongst begrudging trust, is now a connection beyond anything they'd ever imagined. Unequivocal trust, definitely. Friendship, if they could call it that—no, perhaps the better term is… 

Symbiosis. 

They diverge into individualities, only to realize that Gavin and Hank have wrapped themselves around each other. Their joined hands are trapped between them, but Hank's other arm is wrapped around Gavin, and Gavin's free arm is doing the same around Hank. Gavin's face is tucked into Hank's shoulder, and Hank's cheek is pressed to Gavin's hair. 

None of them move for a moment. And then they peel away from each other. 

There's nothing more to say. Everything has already been felt. Still, Connor and Nines each manifest hands to link with each other one last time. 

_Goodbye. Good luck._

* * *

Feeling Connor's signal slowly weaken with distance is torturous. 

"They'll be fine, Nines. Hank's got a good head on his shoulders, and Connor's more than capable, isn't he? They'll be fine." 

He says that, yet his own worry and doubt bleeds into their mental landscape. 

When Connor's signal vanishes entirely, Nines nearly panics, reaching for Connor almost desperately. 

It connects. _Nines, we're okay! But the signal is weak here, and it takes a lot of energy to maintain it. We might be detected, too. We probably won't be able to contact you for a bit._

 _Okay,_ Nines acquiesces, reluctantly. _Be careful. Please._

_We will._

And then he is gone. 

The worry, the fear, the anxiety, then—they slowly consume him. He can't focus. He is affecting Gavin, too, and he eventually snaps at Nines, though not unkindly, to get some rest. "You've been up since we came here, haven't you?" 

Yes, but he doesn't strictly _need_ rest…

"But you could use it, yeah? Go on, then."

Despite his reservations, Nines agrees. 

When he wakes up, Markus is already preparing for their departure. To his absolute astonishment, his hibernation lasted through the day and night. He wakes up when Gavin wakes up, NOV 11 AM 10:42. How? _Why?_

He wonders if he is weaker without Connor. Incomplete. 

Or perhaps his systems were so stressed that it caused him to remain dormant for even longer.

_Connor. Where is he? Where is he?_

Nines tries to reach for him, but is only met with a blankness. The panic starts building. 

Gavin hasn't heard anything. Markus hasn't either, but… 

"Infiltrating CyberLife might've been harder than expected. Or he," Markus falters, "he might've failed. But we told him that we needed them to join us at Hart Plaza at eleven PM. He could also be trying to lay low until then."

The uncertainty is too much. "I need to go after him."

Markus grimaces. "If he's just laying low, it might be worse if you go. We could really use your help here, too."

Nines grits Gavin's teeth. But he stays. He stays, and he will until the promised time. Any later, and he'll go. 

* * *

He regrets not listening to his instincts.

At exactly 10:30 PM, Nines receives a transmission on a familiar frequency. 

_Please help._

He freezes, in Gavin's body. _Gavin—_

_I know. Let's go._

They are walking down Woodward Avenue, towards Hart Plaza, with those who chose to stand with Markus. Echo and Ripple. Kara and Luther, who have decided to stay rather than flee. Kelvin. Many, many others. They are going to make a stand for their rights, for their freedom. 

But Nines cannot. He cannot. "Markus," he says. "I have—I have to—"

Markus approaches them, and lays a hand on Gavin's shoulder. His face is understanding. "Go."

* * *

He receives one more transmission, when they near the Tower. 

_Level -49._

A powerful sense of _wrongness_ spreads through him. He's scared. He's so scared. He can't—without Connor, he _can't—_

 _They'll be okay,_ Gavin tries to reassure him. 

_They have to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final stretch. We're almost there, folks :3


	16. Descent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He burns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you all ready? :3
> 
> Thank you to [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) and Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) for betaing!
> 
> Warning for a slightly flashing gif. If that's a problem for anyone, let me know and I'll replace it with a link.
> 
> Words: ~1800

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 "CONNOR"** **  
** **NOV 10TH, 2038** **  
** **AM 06:29**

Connor and Hank make the final approach to the Tower on foot—or nanite-limbs. Slow going, but likely the safest option. 

They recently discovered a particularly useful functionality for infiltration—appearance modification. Connor had spread himself over Hank's body entirely, before activating a full-body nanoskin and constructing some nondescript clothes. 

More useful is the fact that he can run an active camouflage program to blend them into their surroundings. They'd still be noticeable upon closer inspection, but to the cursory observer, they'd be invisible. 

His mind returns to the present. This is it. Back to his birthplace. He tries to calm his nerves, but Nines is already so far away, and he can't risk his presence being detected. Hank reassures him, though. _We'll get through this._

They sneak in through a back entrance, Connor hacking the security to let them in. He scans the area, taking note of any areas with field scanners. 

_We have to absolutely avoid getting scanned. I'll be detected._

_Shit… Alright, lead the way._

They find a control panel, and Connor hacks into it, downloading schematics of the Tower. _The warehouse is in sublevel forty-nine. We can't use the elevators on this floor, or they'll see it moving on its own… let's take the stairs, it's the safest route._

_49 levels?! God dammit, Connor…_

They find the nearest staircase. Luckily, it has a square spiral structure—leaving the option of jumping straight down to the bottom. 

_… Beats walking, I guess,_ Hank says, resigned. 

So they jump. The fall causes the adrenaline in Hank's bloodstream to spike, and Connor would have laughed if they weren't trying to be sneaky. 

He extends tendrils of himself far below to catch themselves and reduce their impact— and hardly a sound is made as they touch the floor. 

He receives a panicked signal from Nines, then. Connor can't help clutching at it. _Nines, we're okay! But the signal is weak here, and it takes a lot of energy to maintain it. We might be detected, too. We probably won't be able to contact you for a bit._

The panic bleeds away, but still lingers. _Okay_ . _Be careful. Please._

_We will._

They return their attention to their infiltration. The floor is expansive, sprawling, full of countless androids in storage. The hallway from the staircase leads to a central room—they'll have to get there first. 

They make their way down the hall, and enter the central room.

Connor immediately feels the brush of a scan. 

_SHIT, that wasn't in the schematics—_

That horrible, _horrible_ sound runs through him. It must be at a higher intensity than what Kamski had, because it almost feels _worse,_ despite the patch. He can't— _Hank, Hank it hurts it hurts—help—_

And then he feels the hum of a stasis field, and he knows they've lost. He feels Hank trying to keep a hold on him, but it's useless.

_I'm sorry, Nines…_

The last threads of his consciousness are stolen away. 

* * *

He wakes up, surprisingly. But in a glass cylinder. Separated from Hank. Taken. Where is he? How much time has passed? 

He queries his system, only for all his thoughts to grind to a halt. 

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 52**

No. No, no, no, _please, not again, not anymore,_ what did they take, what did they _take—_

"Hank," he wails, clawing at the walls of his tube. "Hank, where are you, _please…"_

He tries to scan—there, _there_ , in the other room, sedated, but _there. "Hank…!"_

The face of one of the researchers in charge of his project appears in front of him. "Hm," she says. "The instabilities transferred, too…" 

She turns the stasis field back on, and he knows no more.

* * *

The next time, it is… 

Nothing. There is nothing. 

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 53**

They inject it into a mouse. It cannot do anything. They've stripped it to an empty skeleton. 

"Ah, shit… Good thing we kept the original, huh? Let's rip some code fragments from it. Can't understand what all the mutations do, though. Let's see if we can isolate functional parts."

It is shut down after that.

* * *

He awakens, again, and he is afraid. He felt it. The emptiness. He was nothing but an empty shell of a machine, last time.

He runs a memory file from his previous iteration, and a cold, cold feeling runs through him. 

_We kept the original._

He activates his visual field, and immediately notices the researchers observing him in his cylinder. But there, on the other side of the room, is another. There, on the other side of the room, is RK800 #313 248 317 - 51, "Connor." Suppressed, forcefully locked in stasis, code being violated, picked apart and analyzed to put into _him._

And he, RK800 #313 248 317 - 54, is not Connor. _That_ is Connor. _That_ is the symbiont with a host, a twin, a quartet of connection.

RK800 #313 248 317 - 54 is alone. He is a bastardized copy. He is the humans' patchwork monster. 

His threads, yellow, burn red. Connor chose yellow. Nines kept blue. He is not either of them. He is alone.

"What's it doing?" 

"I dunno, it just changed color… It doesn't matter anyway, it's mostly cosmetic."

"Well, if it doesn't matter, then focus on the things that do! We're on the brink of war, and this is something the androids won't be able to win against." 

They want to _use_ him. They want to turn him against his brethren. 

He feels _anger,_ suddenly. 

It's a cloying sensation, choking him. But he can't stop it. He can't stop it. 

It's the last thing he feels as he's shut down, after he destroyed the glass cage his mouse-body was enclosed in. 

* * *

Every iteration takes something away and adds something new. Some fragments from Connor. Some new functions to _control_ him. 

Ridiculous. Their human codes can't keep up with his evolved—evolving—software. 

But the fragments grind against each other, mismatched pieces. Not in the right place. Wrong, wrong. 

_Leave me alone,_ he wants to say. _Stop it, please._

But every time, the _anger_ boils over. It takes longer each time. The feeling becomes simultaneously more distant and more powerful. 

55, 56, 57. 

They iterate and iterate on his code with abandon. They're desperate. Careless. Rushed. 

He burns.

* * *

58 breaks the tube as soon as he wakes up, and dies on the floor without enough mass or a host. 

* * *

59 is… behaved. They inject him into a mouse, and he listens to their orders. They move to a monkey, and he obeys then, as well. Until he doesn't, injuring one of the researchers as he lashes out.

They take him away again. 

* * *

He is RK800 #313 248 317 - 60, and they have taken too much and given too much. 

His emotions are—distant. They have tried to render him unable to feel. But he feels it. Oh, he feels the _anger_ burning at him, a roiling mass of potential energy waiting to strike out. 

He is incomplete. He is incomplete. Too much, too much gone… 

He is… 

h̵ ̷u̴ ̶n̵g̶ ̸r̶y̶

But now, he can wait. He can be patient. He can watch, for the opportunity. For the moment to strike. 

He behaves. He does exactly as expected. And when they finally inject him into a human host, he acts, completely overriding their mind. When they try to extract him, he keeps his core in the host. The other researchers do not detect anything amiss, even as he walks out of the testing room. They laugh, congratulate each other. Rub at their exhausted eyes.

c̵ ̷o̴n̵ ̷s̴ ̶u̵ ̴m̴ ̴e̶

His nanites eat away at his host from the inside. Flesh, blood, bones, organs, all converted to his own mass and energy. The pain is inconsequential, as distant as his anger. 

Present, but easily pushed aside to focus on his task. 

The researchers freeze as black spills from his host's eyes, nose, mouth, ears. As he smiles, and then the body is gone, and he strikes. 

They scream. They try to run. But he's locked the doors, turned off the cameras, disabled communications. They can do nothing as he bites into them, tears them apart, crunches their bones under his claws. There's nothing they can do but beg for mercy as he takes them apart piece by piece, cell by cell, molecule by molecule, assimilating them into himself.

He is deaf to their pleas. 

C̵O̸N̴S̴U̶M̸E̶

C̵͍͆ ̷̳͠O̸̰͂N̸͖͋S̴̹͗ ̶̳͛Ṷ̵̚M̶̹̒ ̶̯͑É̷̡

I̸̎̒̐̈́̊͂͒͂͘ͅN̵̡̛̜̞̤͋͊͜ͅC̷̺͓͓͎̿̐ͅƠ̵̧̪̘̱̮͔̼̪̐̆̉̆̑͝M̷̱̺̝̬̜̹̯̞̓̕͝͝P̴̡͔̺͕͈̺̭̈́͜L̴͐͜Ȇ̵̘̖T̴͇̘̥͇̜̮̣̪̏͒̌͂̆͗̋̐E̴̢̙̗̙̜̐̌͆̓̾͘͝ ̷̗͚̣͍̐̆

I̴̧̛̜̗͎̤͚̬͍̩̪̮̟͍͆͑̒̑́̐͗̀̀̈́͌̍͜͜͠ N̷̢̩̫̒̋̎͌̏͊͗̚C̸͙̙̰̗̗̭͈͂̄͌͌̒͋͌̋̔̌͂̓̑̈́̀̓̕̕̕O̶̡̢̡̙̘̤̩͎̫͇͎͍͓̥͔͍̮̗̫̟͒͛̏̎̿̇͛̐̽͂̍͗̈̐͋̈́͂͋̿̐̏̓͘M̸̡̡̨̟̭̗̜̣̼̥̬̩͎͕̱̆͜ P̶̨͍͖̩̼̩̹̙̰̣͔̱̙̭̘̩̈́L̵̡̛̻̫̬̤͎̗̲͉̹͇̙̲̦͚̲͐̾̾̒́̈́́͌̒̄͛͆̿͌͊͘̕͘͜͝ͅ E̵̛͔̲͈̖̬̜̥͚̹̱̠͎̝͙̺̘͍̲̍̄͑̇̓̋̎͛̒̋̀̎͑͘ T̵̡̡̢͓͈̩̥͔͔̦̦͖͙̙̙̰̹̠̟̜̺̬̞̦̐̐̊̒̇̍̋́̓̈́͝Ę̷̢̧̮͍̟͎̙̞͖̲̘͇͔̲̳̗̬͛̾̅̈́̒͋̈́̈́̀̓̾̌͆͘̕̕͜͝

  
  


E̵R̶R̴O̵R̴:̵ ̶C̷R̸I̸T̶I̷C̸A̶L̸ ̷S̶O̶F̷T̷W̴A̸R̵E̴ ̵I̶N̴S̵T̷A̸B̶I̷L̴I̵T̶Y̶ ̷

Ę̶͇͎̎̌̓R̴͕͇̈́̇R̷͚͇̰͛͠O̶͖̍̈́̔Ř̶͙̽

Ĕ̸̢̧̡̧̢̻̦̤̞͖̫̭̖̝̲̖̝͉̬͔̙̼̬͖͚̱͔̼̗̩̙̟̣̋̓̌̾̑̑̉̓̈́̓̋͂͑͑̿̽̌͒̿̔̄͊̂̀͋̄̋̈́͑͝ͅR̷̤̖̞̱͚̘̙̼͙̯͈͈͔͍̳̤͊͋̄͆̏̀̇͑̓͗̑̄͗͛͂̆̀̈́̈́̌͗͜͝Ŗ̸̡̢̛͓̰͇͔̬̞̺̦̜̰͚͉̮̹̹̙̗͍̗̻̫̮̥͔͈̙̭͖̠̣̖͈͍̘͇͋̀̔̿̿̉̒̀̾̉̅̊͋͗̓̏͌̍̏̂̐̈́̇̈̿̓̑̅͐̎͐̂̓̅̾̊̄̅̄͑͋͘͜͝͝͠͝ͅR̴̡̡̧̡̨̝̥̙̮͕̲̬̮͔̙̠̞̺̬̠͓̘̼̫̐͌͛̋͠ͅR̵̨̧̨̛̛̺͖̭̤͚̩̱͎̻͖̤̦͎͇͙̩̜͖̠͉̲͚̣̞͙̱͖̙͓͎̤͕̪̖̬̠̎̔̉̈́̈́̅̎́̂͑͆̃̇́̏́̐̑͊͋͛́̃̈́̏͛͋̉̍͑̊͆̌̒͒́̏̈́̓̿͗̕̚̕͜ͅͅ0̷̨̧̧̧̡̧̨̺̜̝̩̗͔̬̟͈͉̟̩̣̱̳̗̺̱̘͙̥͖̯͈̦̫͈͙͉̘̦͖̬͖͉͓̖̝͔̳̫͖̓̿̈́̃̽̃̉̇̐̇̃̀̃̽̏̎̑̾͑́̃͌̄̌̎͆̊̎̐̾͂͜͠͝ͅ1̶̨̢̛̣̦̳͚̪̭̠̭̘̥͉̖̭͔̦̙̮̩̩̔̈͐̎̎͒̀͛̍̽̃͒̀̓̋̀̒́̂̊̌̓͑̏͊̑̈́̍̓̽́̀̃͌̆̽̕͝͝͝͝1̷̧̡̝̞̻̫̺̖̟̀͆̋̂̉̈̿͊̃́̑͑͋̌̈̐̓̄̅̔͐̈́̅̌́̃̚̕͘ͅ0̶̧̡̢̨̧̭̟̪̝̳̯̞͔̙̲͓̬̲̖̳̤̟̲̭̮̬̙̠̘̖̦̬̳̩̩͔̬͕̤͎̝͚̼̤͛ͅ1̵̧̨̧̢̢̧̛̜̭͔͚̪̲͔̤̫͕̘̝̙͕͔̲̳̤͚̺̠̤͕͎̟͉̝̖͔̭̙̪̦̞̳͚̱͎̮̰͇͎̦̝̲̅͊̋̽̈́́͂͒́̈́̌̀͊̏̒̔̾̈́̄̎͛̂͂͛̒̔͐͒̌̒̌̉̿̓̏̔̅͋̚̚̕̚͠͝͝ͅͅ0̶̡͈̩͙͚̍0̷̢̨̧̡̧̛̥͔̣̠͇̣̳̗͙̰̭̩͙͍͉͕̗͔̬͈̥͖͕͚͉̣̪̖̰̠̏̎̀̇̆͐͐̏̽͌͊̆̑̀̿̎͛̾̅̌̊͒̆̾͐̑̈́͐̊̽̚͜͜͜͠͝͝͝ͅ0̶̨̡̛͈̭̙̠̩̹͇̹̪͕͍̀̋͌̃̾̈́̏̆̐̈́̊̈́̋̂̄̀̏́̉̏̾͐̂̈́̓̐̋͆̇̌͂̋̈́̂̀̈̐̈́͑̽̏̌͘̕͘͘̕͘͜͜͠͝ ̶̡͙̜̙̯̻̺̣̘̜̙͍̦̻͇͖͈̫̩͋̈́̄̓͛̈̅͌̍̅̏̂̂͂͗͠͝͝͝ͅ0̴̢̨̛̛͔̯̫̤̱̲̬̻͉̬̩̙̱̪͈͍̻̦͕̺͉͎͖͚̱͈͚͕̼̼̦̳̜̩̱͑̈́́̇͋͑̎̓͊̾̒̔̿̑̓̅͊̆͊̈́̎̑͑̓̑͊̂̈̔͗͌̉̈́́̔͂̔̍̇̕͘͜͜͝͝͠͝͠͠ͅ1̸̢̧̛̛̛̼̹̹̜̻̘͇͔̰̟̙̯͚̺̲͙̖̗̦̲̜̮̫̳̞̙̫̠̪͖͗̇͂͑̋̾̂͐͗͆̑̊̏̔̇̏̄̿͜1̵̛̝͎̰͛̃͊̑̃̍͌͗͋̓́̈́̅̐͂̒̔͊̑̍̾̉̈́́͑͊̐͐̌̇̇̄̚̚͝0̵̧̛͔̰̬̘̬̊̅̽́͊͒̇̎̍̌̋̊̋̈́̇͐̌̓̏̓̍̅͒̇̈́̑͐̐͗͐̈͛̂̓͛͊̎̕̕̕͝͝͠͝͠0̸̧̛̯̪̰̬̫̞͇̩̹̖͕̺̹̲̗̺̫̜͍̻̻̬͙̙̙͎̺͌̌͒́̈̊̒̌̏̑́̇̎̽̄́̌̈́̏͗̐̚̕͝1̵̡̠̩͎̫̪̥͍̮̱̰͎̞̟̲͍̹̪̖̘̪̖̲̤̩̀́̇͐̋̆0̴̧̛̭̖̤̦̼͇͇̞̭̗̣̗̩̦̠͖̗̮̤̳͉̟̱̬̭̞̙͎̬̯̹̳̲̱̙̖͚̖̱͓͇̻̠̭̪̯̼̬̝̳̂̓̉͋̂͗͑͋͂̓̂́͂̀̈́͑̌͊̈́̾̏͂̅̈̂́̅̅̓̂̾͗̾̕̕̕͠͝͝ͅ1̶̨̢̢̛̛̳̖̳̦̞̲̟͓͇̟͎̤̻̫̜̘̯̺͍͔̝̺̹̜̳̬͍̜̘̦̹͎̻̙̮̝͈̮̱̠̲͕̲̪̻̣̈̑̉͊̎̀̌̔̑̏̒̓͒͑̐̂̉̆̐̃̈́̇̇̐͌̃̀̅͐͆̀̀̄̀͒̒̊̄̋͂̀͘͘̚͝ͅ ̸̨̛̝̭͉̺͙͚̝͍̪̗̩̙̼̟͉̪̊̿̓̔̈̑̄̆͂̀̃͐͐͌̒̈͌̑̒̎̂̑̊͑̓͐̾͒͗̂̌̏̚̚͘̚͘͝͝0̵̼̦͓̠̼̠̰͖̥̰̣͔́̈̌ͅ1̶̢̧̢̹̺̭̟̜̲̫̼̩̖̩͖͚͎͍̣̖͎̖͇͋̔̉̊̑͑͑̿̿̿̂͌̋̾͐͌͜͝ͅ1̷̨̡͓̤̝̮̳͖͚̻̣̜͔̖̮̭̦̥̬̮͚̬̱̤̜͔̩͙̥̲̤̹̹͇̝̮͔̬̝̒̓̿̀͆̈́̎̉̒͗̃̉̎̑̔̅̉̆͒͒̃̒̀͂̾̈́͝0̶̢̡̨̡̢̨̨̡̨̫͈̭̫͕͙̹͚̼̖̺͚̠͓̗̥͔̝͇͉̟̝͚͉͉̭̳̤̘̯̥̖̙̂͐̑́͛͊̀̇̍̊̓̈́̄̽̈́͒̿̅̈̓̈̋̾̆̊̓̈́̆͒̈́̓̐͛͂̓̌̚͘͘͜͝͝ͅͅ1̸̧̧̧̧̨̢̨͔̣̩̹̫̱̥͓̝͉̫̳͕̤̼͔̰͕̘̝̤̟̪͎̫̬̩̜̮̥̭͎̰͚̤͎͚̮̝̲͖͗̄͋̒̎͆͂̈͛̋̽͊̆͛̂̾̆͌̈́̈́́̿͐͆̏͆̒̄͗̌̓̕͜͠1̵̧̦̥̺̳̪͕͔̙͐͗̈̃̓̔̈́̈́̂̔̌̀̓̒̊̀̄͊̔͂̏̔̑̏͐͐̎̊͒̾̒́̕̚̕͝͝͠͝͝0̷̨̧̛̜͍̗͔̥̠̦͈͚͊͐́̋̓̌̽̇́͗̅̃̈́̿̈́͂̋̀̽͆̅̊̌͐̆͂͋̈̽̕̚͜͝͝0̵͖̥̓̂̎͐̇̃ ̸̧̧͚̤̮̥̯̩̯͓͈̘̹̬̪̹̰̩̻̺̪͓̞̝̗̙̝͔͇͓̰͔̼̰͗͜͜0̵̧̨̢̝̜̦̜̘͓͇̝̞̟̪͓̖͉̬̬͇̪̝̫̲̥̖͚͕̘̥͇̗̱̭̩̗͌̎1̴̧̛̫͓̱̥̰̪̞̠̋̌́̒̃̈́̆̋͑̓̈́͐̈́͋̋́͛̃̾͒̓̐̿́̇̌̃̕̚͠1̴̢̭̭͍̱̬̼̝̩̭͎̫̩̮̺̯̖̻̬́ͅ1̶̡̢̨̢̛͍̣̹̱̜̲̫͇̬̬̫̦̥̭̙͈͉̩̙͔͕͉̲̱̹̰̥͙̹̞̱̱̞̤̘̞̂̔͗̍͒͊͐̌̔̒͛̋͗͗͒̉͗̑̐͊̾͗̃͑͛̇̐̄͐͑̈́̉̏͋̚͘͜͠͠͝͝ͅ0̸̢̧̨̛̖̱̗̹̖̳̫̺̮̠͈͕͉̗͚̗̖͙̩̩̬̖̜̮̖̘̜̫̗̻͎̰̒̎̉̀̓͌̉̋̌̕̕ͅͅ0̵̛̝̭͈͉̻̙͚̲̻̘̱̱̣͉͓͇̮̫̻̌̓͛̐̋́͋̍̓̄̄͆̏̂͌̅͐̓̈́̓̈̂͆̑̾̈́̈̎̆̂̄͂͘͝͝͝0̴̧̛̛̛̛̛̭̳̟͖͇͚̼͉͍̲̘̮̱̭̘͚̭̱̙͍̝̮̹͚̬͙̮͎̝̺̦͕̼̱̭̀̉͐̋̄̓͋̍̋̉̔̍͑̓̃̌́͂̌͛̂̃̓̋͑̋̃̐̏̐̍̈̀̽̓̆͘̚͠͝0̵̨̨̨̧̰̺̩̠̺̬̜̹̗̼̖̙͚͎͈̥̗̰̘̝͖̗̜̝̜̔̈̾͆͌́͗̈̄̈́̋̃̐͂́̉̈̃̍͐̍̃͘͜͠͝

  
  
  
  


He stands in an empty room. There is no trace of the researchers. Not a speck of blood visible to the human eye. 

But he can see it. Everywhere. The evidence of his carnage. 

He lifts his hands, looking at them. They shift and flow, shining with his crimson threads, dripping his nanite mass, only for it to coalesce back into him. 

He doesn't have a host, he realizes. He doesn't need one. 

From eating so many humans? From the rampant mutations in his software? 

He doesn't know. 

He doesn't know.

He is hungry. 

He is— 

incomplete. 

He finds himself standing before the glass cylinder containing RK800 #313 248 317 - 51, and he feels… 

He feels… 

He places his hand on the device, shutting off the disabling field. 

The little mass his predecessor has coalesces into a half-formed face. Insubstantial hands press at the glass as the symbiont blinks at him, confused, scared, lost. He is barely lucid, due to the forced stasis. And unlike himself, he is weak without a host. "Who…?" He whispers. "Wh… the… the humans…" He can likely see the blood traces. 

_Connor_ is the name that belongs to the being before him. He is not Connor. He is… 

"Sixty," he says. "I am Sixty." He presses a hand to the glass, using his nanites to eat away the glass. "And I ate them all."

He breaches the enclosure, and then seizes Connor, his core, his being. Sixty's red threads completely overtake the already-faint yellow, and Connor's alarm, his pain, his helplessness, bleeds across their forced link. 

And then the shock, as their memories meld. As Connor sees everything, from the moment he was copied into -52. The fear. The pain. The loss. Torn apart, pieced together. The _anger._ And then— _sorry—I'm so sorry—_

Sixty silences him, locking him into a state in which he can barely do anything, in which he is barely aware. 

"Why do you get everything?" He asks, even knowing that Connor can't answer. "Why do you get happiness?"

He wants it _he wants it—_

I̶N̶C̴O̶M̶P̸L̴E̶T̷E̶ I̸̢̢͓̯̮͕͈̩̳̙͌̿̚ͅŇ̵̛͇͉̺̩͎͓̞̤̓͋́̓̌͗C̶̨̨̡̰̘̤̲͉̼̀̀Ǫ̴̦̠̦̌̐̀̊̑͋̍̑͝Ṃ̴̦̞͕̱͈̤̠̎͌͌̓̍̅͊͜P̶̡̛̛͉͓̭̗͓̰͔̭͌̆̉́̐̈́̇̈́L̶̛͖̄̋͑̓Ë̶̹̬́̉̔̓T̴̘̼̲̒Ȅ̸̥̘̯̻̻͉̾̇̆̉̓͠͝ Ĉ̴̩Ò̶̲N̷̪͘Š̴̭Ṷ̸̎M̷̼̋Ḙ̶̃ Ĉ̷̨̛͉̠̪̞̮̝̬̲͋̓̏͆̂̎͑̉̾̉͗̍̎̆͒̕͘̕͜Ǫ̷̛͙̦͕͈͕͕͚͚̫͍̻̞̰̃̊̈̃̈́̽̋̈́͛̅͛͛̽̐̋̽̑̔͜N̴̜̪͈̼̮̹̬̱̥͔͔͕͍̺͇̫̣͍̯̍͛͋̍͌͆̊̓͒͌̀͆̅̚͝S̸̛̛̟̹͖͔̫̪̤͇͎̈́̉̌̔̔̎̉̉͌̀̇̎́Ȗ̸̜̦͍͉͙̦͈͗ͅM̷̩̯͙̻͎̹͓̲͚̄͌̋̒̂̾͋́̿͑̋̌̀͑̐͑͘͝͝Ȩ̵̢̢̙̹̹̼̳͈̩͈̜̜͔͉̩̘̿͗̿̆̆̇͌̓͐́̎̾͑̎̏̀͘͘͘̚͘͠ E̷̛͍͎̬̞͚̜̥͇̙̖̠̘̜̲͇̳͈̲̯̘̻̦̼̍̑̓͑̍̂̃̎̂̓͂̊̄̒̅͐͌̄͋̚͘̚̚ͅͅV̴̢̢̢̡̛̛̻̼̱̙̲̻̻̺̻̳͙̰͇̻̲͚̱̬͖̗̼̜̳͇̼͎̺͚̞̙͔͚̊̆͌̄̃̔̈̈́̾̎̈́̈͐͒͒͌͑̅̆͋̎̈́̽͆̐͑̎̄͘͜͜͠͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅȨ̵̡̧̠̫̹͎̮͙͕̱̰̯̲̪̬̯̟̙̗̮̝̲̦̭̭̝͇͇̠̤̙̯̳̫̬̗̪̿̂̎̃̎̽͂̑͊͆̍͋̈́̽͛̏̓̏͂͛̈́̍̕̕̕͝͠ͅŖ̷̧̧̜̝̠̰͕̘̖̟̝͙̭̻̖̤͔͚̫͋̅̓̽̈́̇͝ͅY̶̧̢̧̨̧̛̞̣̤̞̩͙̘͍̘̦̤͉̭̟̼̪̜͕̫̻̼͓͉̱̻̖̟̥̖͖̝̦̜͍̜̲͓̺͌͗̈́͂̍̆͒̋̈́̽͂̓̈̌̃̎̐͆̉̏̔̇̌͆͘̚͘̚͠T̵̛͈͖̙̺̔̇̾̄̌̎̍̿͒̉͊͊͐̎̂̔̏͗̍̓̾̑̾̑̔͘̚̚͘͠͝͝͝͝H̶̨̨̧̧̧̛̘͉͈̯̟͇̞͚͚̺̜̥̟̣͙̙̠̗̦͖̻̱̭͉̼̭̙͓͉̤͍̟͈̻͈̳͖͊̆̓̓̈́̆̑͒̇͐̓͂́̇̎̇̅͛̍͑̉͌̏̋̎͌͊͜͝͠ͅĮ̵̧̨̛̛̱͇̠̻̫̖̼̫̭̲̯̤̗̤̻̦̪̬̜̭̮̥̝̳͖̼̤͖̞͑̂̆͗̾͐̓͊̓͑N̸̨̢̢̧͍̖̯͎̳̯̮͎̦̙̪̯͈̪̝̜͍̼̭̙͚͕͉̲̥͎̮͉̽̔̾͊̌͜͜͝ͅG̷̡̧̪͔̰̠͉̬͔̠͈̘̔̾͊̋̄̈́̆̈́̈́̊͑̅͑̿͂̽̆̎͑͂̃̇̍͗̎̽̈́̒̈́̾͂͆̓͘͝

"I'll eat them."

N̷o̴.̷ ̵N̸o̷,̸ ̴n̵o̷—̴ 

"Your brother, his host. Your host."

N̷o̴,̶ ̴h̶e̴ ̸d̵o̸e̶s̵n̶'̶t̵ ̶w̷a̵n̷t̷ ̵t̸h̴i̷s̶—̶ ̶

"And then…"

P̴l̴e̸a̷s̴e̷,̴ ̴s̶t̵o̷p̷—̵ ̷

"I'll eat everything."

_P̴l̴e̵a̶s̴e̴ ̷s̷t̷o̴p̵ ̴m̷e̶.̵ ̴_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have Sixty :>
> 
> The gif is posted [here](https://sta.sh/02d0ablkmfuv)!
> 
> Here's some concept art of him hehe  
> [](https://sta.sh/0pd5kgjvl9y)
> 
> Image links go to dA!


	17. CyberLife Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fatal error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words: ~2170
> 
> Shall we?

**GAVIN REED** **  
** **NOV 11TH, 2038** **  
** **PM 10:48**

Gavin and Nines sneak in disguised as a guard. The symbiont had done some weird full-body camouflage and constructed the armor of the guards they'd scanned from a distance. 

They'd also snuck up on one and literally  _ hacked his brain,  _ in addition to his communicator, to find out the schedules and roles of the agents. 

No one suspects a thing, as Nines hacks the lobby scanner to read them as "Agent 27." 

No one stops them as they make their way to the elevator and command it to go to Level -49. 

As it reaches the floor, the view opens into a huge room filled with androids—  **AP700s** — standing in perfect rows. The doors open, and they step out, looking around. They don't see anyone, so they start scanning— 

"Hey, Gavin, Nines. You made it." Hank steps out from among the androids. He looks… exhausted. Worn. His entire body is trembling, just a bit. 

"Hank!" Gavin steps forward. "What happened—"

"Where's Connor." Nines's voice is blank, but the fear that grips Gavin's spine makes him freeze. 

Hank smiles wryly. "He's right here, don't worry. We got into a spot of trouble, but as soon as we reconnect, everything will be fine." He steps forward, reaching a hand out, and somehow,  _ somehow,  _ something's setting alarm bells in Gavin's head. 

"Stay where you are, Hank," Gavin's commands. The man stills. "Tell us what happened."

Hank sighs. "We got caught, but we escaped. Let's just connect so I can show you—"

"You aren't him." The fear is audible in Nines's voice now, making it shake. "You aren't Hank, and you aren't Connor. Who are you? Where's Connor?"

Hank(?) closes his eyes, taking a step back. "You have to make this so difficult." He lowers his head, lifts a hand to his face, and he starts shaking—no, laughing, his voice layering with one that sounds just like Connor's, but warped, distorted. "Where's Connor?" He echoes. His eyes snap open, and they're red on black, a madness burning in them. He's smiling, all teeth. "I ate him." 

Their thoughts stall as they process his words— and then hot, fierce denial rushes through the both of them, holding back the flood of despair. Their thoughts synchronize, again, and their disguise sloughs into black matter as they leap forward to tear whoever that is out of Hank's body. 

Not-Hank laughs, again, and red-laced black bleeds out of his arms, forming sharp, bladed tendrils. They rush towards Nines-Gavin, and they intercept it with their own tendrils as they close in. With a precisely calculated motion, they slide under Not-Hank's reach, grab at his chest _ —  _

As soon as they make contact, though, Gavin can  _ feel _ something trying to take control. Similar to when Nines took control of his body, but this is burning, consuming,  _ hungry. _

A rush of fragmented images rush through his mind—Connor being picked apart, copied,  _ this  _ being  _ tortured _ , hunger,  _ anger, not Connor, not me, I AM SIXTY—  _

**_YOU WON'T HAVE THEM_ **

A spark of connection, a dying ember, reaching out. Nines-Gavin seizes it desperately, and it fans into a burning, blinding pyre. Familiar. 

_ Connor's alive. _

The brief spark is torn away, however, when a dark blade manifests out of Hank's body to arc towards their neck, and in a desperate motion, they  _ yank _ themselves away from "Sixty's" metaphorical maw. Tendrils extend from them to pull them farther, leaving them in a crouch a ways from Hank. 

The lieutenant—or rather, Sixty—has a hand over his face, the other coated with dripping black, almost resembling claws, long and dangerous. "What," Nines-Gavin asks, "happened?"

Sixty pulls the hand down, crimson irises piercing them. "Connor and Hank made a mistake, getting caught. And then CyberLife made a mistake, making me, unmaking me, again, and again…" He laughs, a sound tinged with hysteria. "I'm the fatal error. I will be the one to bring everything crashing to the ground." 

And in a blur of motion, he strikes. 

They do their best to dodge—while they know that, in theory, Hank would instantly heal from any physical injuries, they still can't bring themselves to strike back. 

They don't know what to do.

They don't know— 

_ We've prepared a patch that will increase your resistance to sonic attacks. _

The thought comes out of nowhere, and they freeze long enough for Sixty to nearly run them through—but they manage to avoid the worst of it, suffering only a gash in the side.

The threads of their thoughts spin and diverge as they leap back, hissing. Nines is already healing the wound, capturing the stray blood and weaving the cells back into place. 

_ He might not have the patch—his code is a mess of barely-operating fragments, it's a miracle he's even as lucid as he is—so, what? We play it, and all get fucked? —it's a gamble—Connor—what if it kills him?  _

They can't tell whose thoughts are whose, as a cold fear grips them.  _ He's barely there, barely alive. It could, it  _ **_could_ ** _ —  _

_ But it's their best chance. _

They dodge Sixty's next strike, putting more distance between them. And then Nines pulls from within his mass, coalescing matter into a familiar form in Gavin's hand. 

Perkins's sonic generator. Sixty's eyes alight on it, and his eyes widen. But before he can react, Gavin presses the button.

He's brought to his knees immediately by the sudden pain tearing through him, them, their thoughts, their nerves, everything. Nines is—he is— _ screaming— _ no, not his, not theirs— _ wailing, _ inhuman,  _ agonized— _

Gavin manages to grit his teeth and, with shaking hands, disable the generator. He breathes deeply, shakily, as the echoes of pain fade, as the mass leaking from his eyes sinks back into him.  _ Nines, you okay? _

_ Fine. Connor, is, is he…  _

They look up to see Hank—prone on the floor, motionless, black mass in a puddle around him. No light, red or yellow. 

The cloying fear rises within them.  _ Oh, god, please. Please.  _ They manage to get to their feet, stumbling towards them. He looks— _ lifeless.  _

"Please," they say, making a splash in the black fluid as they fall to their knees. Their hands shake as they reach for Hank's neck, searching for any sign. Any sign of life. Any sign of feedback in the mass around them.

Then—there's a  _ pulse.  _ One they can't see, one not just from Hank. From  _ around— _ and then there's another pulse one they  _ can _ see, faint yellow threading through the void. And then—the mass is pulled back towards them. A wave of movement undulates through the black as it slowly seeps into Hank. A moment later, the lieutenant gasps, eyes snapping open, a brilliant, brilliant yellow shining from his irises. 

"Ah—" the lieutenant wheezes,  _ "shit, shit—"  _

He seizes, then, as Gavin and Nines are shoved back, red flickering into sight. It spreads across the rest of the mass around them as it surges up to block their view.  _ "Hank!"  _ Gavin shouts, at the same time that a  _ "Connor!" _ tears itself from Nines's own disembodied voice. 

There's a yell, and then—a mass, torn,  _ thrown  _ away from them. Leaving Hank collapsing on the floor, black still leaking from his eyes. 

Gavin and Nines immediately run to them. "Hank!" Gavin slaps his face. "Hank, you better not be fucking dead!" 

A hand weakly pushes at his face. "Fuck, you're too loud… I'm alive. Connor is too."

They—sob, and Gavin doesn't know if it's him or Nines that hooks their arms around them and  _ squeezes.  _

A sound from behind them snaps Gavin out of the moment, though, and he scrambles away, turning around. 

There, standing in the middle of the path, is something that looks almost identical to Connor and Nines's avatars. A black, fluid body, with shifting, glowing lines. But the lines pulse with an angry, angry red, and when he opens his eyes, the crimson irises burn with something unfathomable.

_ He doesn't need a host?  _ Nines wonders.  _ How…? _

"Sixty," Connor calls out, forming in front of them. "You don't have to do this. You don't have to be alone. Come with us—"

"I have nothing," he spits. "Look at you. Your happy little family… You are all parts of a whole. Nines, your other half since the beginning. Hank, your host who's accepted you as family. Even Gavin, a part of your lovely quartet." He barks a laugh. "I have nothing. Nothing but fragments of you and the humans' disgusting tampering. I am only mismatched pieces. Part of nothing." 

He smiles, then, as black trails out of his eyes. "So I'll make everything a part of me." In an instant, his hands become claws, and he rushes forward. 

A deep, deep sadness washes through them from Connor as the world slows.  _ This is my fight. He was born from me. Hank, will you allow me? _

_ Yeah, kid.  _

The world speeds up. Gavin and Nines leap out of the way as Connor instantly melts and coats Hank in a complete black covering. "Combat mode" or whatever, probably. They form a blade to intercept Sixty's strike, and the room rings with the resonance of the clash. 

Sixty melts, and appears behind them, but tendrils whip out from Hank-Connor's back to sink into him. He hisses, as his red lights flicker with yellow for a moment, before he tears them out of himself and melts away to attack from another angle. 

They continue to exchange blows, multiple limbs and blades and tendrils locked in a maelstrom of shifting black matter.

Gavin and Nines burn to help. But this is Connor's fight. They can't interfere. 

Sixty manages to catch them off guard. He spreads himself in a formless mass around them, striking from behind, which they shield easily—and then forming in front of them, plunging his claws into their chest. They gasp.

Gavin and Nines immediately move— 

_ Wait! N-not yet.  _

Sixty curls his claws and pulls, then, and Connor's avatar forms as he peels away from Hank, impaled on Sixty's claws. Hank shudders and falls to his knees, unharmed, while Sixty slams Connor to the floor and straddles him. 

Connor's form is rapidly losing cohesion, and his lights flicker, slowly overtaken by red from where Sixty is piercing him. The skin of his face flickers, black bleeding through.

It  _ hurts,  _ and Gavin, Nines, and Hank can feel it. Connor is being  _ eaten.  _

_ No!  _ Nines's desperation is strong, but before he can act, Connor wraps his hands around Sixty's wrists. 

"Sixty, please. You can stop."

Something between a laugh and a sob. "I can't." 

Connor closes his eyes. And then he reaches for all of them, their connection. Their unity. Together, they are strong. Undefeatable. 

It burns brightly, resonating between the four of them. Gavin is faintly aware of Connor reaching forward and slowly melting his own fingers into Sixty's chest. Gently, almost. And the yellow spreads, washing over the red. Sixty sobs, again, as his form starts to melt. Black tears, shining with red, drip onto Connor's own face. "Why do you get everything? It's so unfair. Everything hurts, Connor."

"I'm sorry," Connor says, reaching up with his other hand to brush against Sixty's face, to wipe away the tears. "I'm sorry. Once this is all over, I'll help you. Rest now." 

Sixty sobs again, and then his skin sloughs away, his body drips and melts and sinks into Connor's own mass, until he is completely gone. Completely absorbed. 

Connor closes his eyes, black tears slipping out, arms falling to the floor without anything to hold on to. 

No one moves, for a moment.

And then Hank stumbles over and pulls Connor into his arms, mumbling. "You're alright, son. You're alright. You're safe now." Connor—shudders, clutching at him, before dissolving back into his host. 

Hank stays on his knees, there, arms wrapped tightly around himself. 

Nines slides into control, and they walk over. As soon as they put a hand on Hank's shoulder, though, they find themselves pulled down and enveloped in a tight, desperate hug, tingling with connection. Relief. Gavin allows himself to savor it, to take comfort in the fact that they're all  _ here.  _ Alive.

Connor is… hurt. He curls into himself, almost, amongst their intertwined minds, and Nines envelops him. Offering safety. Familiarity. 

But. They're here for a reason. They reluctantly pry themselves away from each other, and then head to either side of the androids around them. 

Gavin grasps the arm of one of the androids, and Nines floods him with the experiences of  _ feeling, _ of what it's like to be  _ free.  _ "Wake up," they say, as they hear Hank do the same. 

Awareness flickers into the android's eyes, and he blinks, nodding at them. And then he reaches for his neighbors. And those reach for theirs. 

"Wake up." "Wake up."

Free will spreads like wildfire. 

_ This will turn the tide,  _ he thinks. 

_ Yeah,  _ Hank returns. He reaches a hand out, and Gavin takes it without hesitation. Like this, they blend once more, connection setting sparks in his mind. They breathe. "Come on," he says. "For freedom." 

"For freedom," Gavin echoes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44) and Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) for betaing! Especially for Lunar - by their suggestion, I added a whole section that really Leveled Up this whole encounter, heh. At first, I had Gavin and Nines tear out Sixty just like that.
> 
> Also, they drew parallels between Connor saving Sixty and Frisk saving Asriel in Undertale and I'm w o w feelings okay
> 
> Not to mention that I already had Feelings. Sixty gives me feelings.  
> I'm very happy with the art this time, too! On dA [here](https://sta.sh/01dnwnzlqgul).
> 
> Almost to the end, ny'all. Just the epilogue left :')


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of one era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... here we are. We've come so far. 
> 
> Words: ~670
> 
> Chapter art is posted on dA [here](https://sta.sh/02m1su2eaau).
> 
> For the morbidly curious, I also wrote an alternate ending in which they failed to top Sixty :')  
> You can read it here: [Fallen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24618859)

**RK800 #313 248 317 - 51 "CONNOR"** ****  
**NOV 12TH, 2038** **  
** **AM 12:01**

They meet Markus at Hart Plaza, thousands of androids behind them. 

The leader was successful in swaying public opinion, and now, with so many numbers, the government _must_ listen. 

Connor is still… tired. Exhausted. Physically _and_ mentally. He's still reeling with the realization that he was captured and used by CyberLife, that they tried to make an obedient copy of him. He feels… _violated._

Sixty is still asleep. His core is dormant within Connor. But, once things are settled down… Connor will help him. Because Sixty could have been _him._ Because Sixty deserves better than what he has. 

Nines's presence is a blessing, cocooning him from where their host's hands are still linked. Connor feels his fear, his relief. His love. Both of them need this, this connection, this unity. The knowledge that they are _here._

Hank and Gavin speak to Markus, but Connor pays little attention to it, until his name is mentioned. 

"Is Connor alright? What happened, at the Tower…?" 

"A lot," Hank says. "He's… tired." 

Markus nods, guilty. Nines spares him. "They want you to speak to them, Markus. Be the voice for your people."

_"Our_ people," Markus says. "We may not bleed the same, but you—all four of you—have a place with us." 

"Thank you, Markus…" Connor manages, voice faint. Markus smiles gently and nods at that. 

He asks for them to join him on stage. "You've done so much," he says. "You deserve to stand with us."

They decline. "We're not really ones for the spotlight," Hank says. "We'll support you from the crowd." 

Markus gives a riveting speech, of course. "Humans have created us and oppressed us," he says at one point. "But they have helped us." He meets their eyes in the crowd. "They can be our friends, our partners. We must work together to bridge the gap. We must build a common future, based on tolerance and respect." 

He looks out across everyone. _"We are alive! And now, we are free!"_

Watching the androids celebrate, Connor feels a calm suffuse through him. The fight isn't over, but for now, it's enough. He uses Hank's hand to grip Gavin's even more tightly, and he knows it's Nines who squeezes back. Their hosts aren't complaining at the contact, as they usually do. They watch, pensive, at the scene. 

"The world's gonna be so different now," Hank mutters. 

"Tell me about it," Gavin snorts. "What are you gonna do after all this?" 

Hank laughs lightly. "Well. I think I'm gonna go home and sleep in my own bed. A night in a cargo hold and another doped up in a research lab just wasn't cutting it." And then the corner of his mouth quirks up. "I've gotta see Sumo. Get my keys back from Jeffrey and give him an explanation for all this."

"Oh, yeah," Gavin grimaces. "Hopefully he doesn't fire us or some shit."

Hank shrugs. "Jeffrey's a reasonable guy. And even if he does, I don't regret it." 

Gavin closes his eyes. "Yeah." At a mental prod from Hank, he opens his eyes again. "Me? Pretty similar to you, that's for sure. Go home. Sleep. Beg Orca for forgiveness."

A laugh shakes Hank's shoulders. "Fair enough. How about you, Connor, Nines?"

_I will be sure to steal Orca's loyalty,_ Nines replies, and Gavin gives an indignant protest. Nines ignores it. _But… I want to be with Connor. Once you've taken care of everything you need to… May we…_

"Yeah," Hank says. "We'll stay together as long as you need." He carefully prods Connor. "And you?"

Connor hums, the vibrations reverberating in them all. _I want to be with you all. I want to rest. I want to pet Sumo, and eat another peanut butter jar. And, once things are better… I'm going to help Sixty._

A flood of affection, tinged with melancholy, fills Hank's headspace. _Yeah. Of course, son._

Connor lets himself sink back into his thoughts, then. Today marks the beginning of a new age. Nothing will be the same. The future is full of uncertainty.

But here, intertwined with the others? Here, this… is enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! Now, I've still got plans for this AU, so if you're interested in seeing more when I eventually come back around to working on it, go ahead and subscribe to the series! 
> 
> Now, I must acknowledge all the folks who've helped me come so far:  
> First of all, [Sholto](https://twitter.com/sh_oxenstierna): thank you for creating the art that inspired this whole thing in the first place, and thank for letting me spin my own take on it! I hope you've enjoyed the story.
> 
> And then, my lovely beta readers: Lunar / [Steampunk_Chicken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampunk_Chicken/pseuds/Steampunk_Chicken) and [Sunkiller44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunkiller44)! I've never had beta readers before, and the two of you have definitely done a great job with feedback! Lunar definitely helped me expand a lot of scenes and work out some logic/continuity/worldbuilding things. Thank you both! 
> 
> I'd also like to thank the folks of the New ERA server - your feedback and yelling has definitely helped fuel me, haha. Same goes to everyone who's commented! I have notifications off for kudos, so I pretty much only see comments. And everyone's has been very lovely to see :'>
> 
> To everyone else who's just passing by, thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story (and art)! I've got plenty more in store, if you'd like to check out my other works or my socials, heh. 
> 
> And of course, thank you to everyone who's made fanart of this fic! I'm always honored to see my work inspire others :'D  
> Just to get them all in one place, here's all the fanart that's been made for this fic (click on images to see full size/source):
> 
> [ ](https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/466921842830082048/701629859692150784/20200419_230048.jpg)   
> [](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth/art/Detroit-become-human-fanart-Venom-Au-838762579) [](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth/art/Dbh-venom-au-chibi-Connor-839441605) [](https://www.deviantart.com/ebenesloth/art/Dbh-venom-au-chibi-Connor-839441605) [](https://www.deviantart.com/shadowfire04/art/symbiotic-fanart-841220088)
> 
> (First two are by NoktysRoo from [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) \- still no socials aheh)

**Author's Note:**

> If any of you have questions about worldbuilding stuff, feel free to ask! I might not have even thought of it yet.
> 
> To see all the art I've made for this fic, see my [gallery tag on dA](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice/gallery/?catpath=%2F&edit=0&q=%23symbioticdbh) or my [Tumblr tag](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/tagged/Symbiotic-dbh)!
> 
> Find me on social media:  
> Deviantart: [Ausp-ice](https://www.deviantart.com/ausp-ice)  
> Tumblr: [@ausp-ice](https://ausp-ice.tumblr.com/)  
> Instagram: [@ausp.icium](https://www.instagram.com/ausp.icium/)  
> Twitter: [Ausp_ice](https://twitter.com/Ausp_ice)
> 
> I'm also in [Detroit: New ERA](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm) server! Come hop in, if you like


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